Go!

Do you know why I hate the medical wards?

Because there is too much downtime. I've been back on the wards for 6 hours now, and I've already worked myself into a state of such grotesque self-loathing and anxiety that I could eat a cafeteria meal. This, it should be pointed out, is akin to an act of self-harm.

Do you know why I love Emergency?

The last three weeks, I have been working in the Emergency Department. In Warrnambool, this means babies, truckies, man vs farm animal, drunk guy vs plate-glass window, drunk girls, kids on motorcycles and STDs.

It also means that from the time you arrive at work until the time you leave (usually two hours late) you are ON. Running. Panicking. Chasing a pantless toddler who is determined to poop on the floor. Trying to stop your drug addicted patient from stealing your stethoscope. Trying to explain to an 18 year old girl that, "No matter how much you like him, you have to use a condom when you can see blisters".

In short, bliss! No time for self-reflection! No time for soul searching! No time to pee!

Workaholism is still better than alcoholism. Similar amounts of vomit, but at least it's not mine.