Psychiatry for a better tomorrow

Today's lesson was "Canada's Health Care System: Community, Caring and Sharing". I could feel various symptoms drifting through me as the day dragged on.

First, paranoia: This is a joke. They're trying to fuck with me. There's no way they can make me sit through a 6 hour session on caring and sharing. I'm not five. They're messing with me...

Next, avoidant behaviours: I could just get up and leave. I could be on a plane to Melbourne in 24 hours, back at work at St V's within a week. I'll break my lease, abandon my new bed and walk away, never come back to Canada again!

Then, denial & distraction: La la la, I can't hear this woman telling me that the most valuable tool I have are my ears. Instead, I will go on twitter and read about Ian at the Junos. I will look for couches on Craigslist. I will urgently try to text people in Australia. Because if I don't pay attention, I don't have to acknowledge that this is happening to me.

Finally, psychosis: All these motherf**kers are beneath me. I will use my lazer eye-beams to fry them in their skins (extra-crispy!) and then fly out the window. To New Zealand. Where I'll join Bert on the Tongariro Crossing and we'll eat all the scroggin we can carry.

I suppose the silver lining to these nuff-nuff classes is that they allow plenty of time to (covertly) read my textbooks under the table. Today's topic? Identifying psychiatric disease. Handy.

interesting medical words I learned today

Marsupialisation: the act of slitting an abscess, then suturing one edge to the base to create a pouch of tissue, thus allowing free drainage of the pus.

From the word "marsupial", referring to a (generally Australian) mammal with a pouch.

I did not learn this in class. In class, I learned that crossing one's arms is a sign of "closed" body language. And that the teachers have surprisingly good hearing when it comes to cuss words.

Luckily, my new friends are just as profane and cynical as me, so none of us could be pinpointed for blame.

At home, life is still blissful. I'm watching the snow come down, eating marshmallows and learning about the different types of vaginal discharge. Which is not everyone's cup of tea, but works for me.

first day

This is not a repeat of medical school. We know that you have all been to a medical school somewhere.

This is not an English class, you have more than proven your abilities in English with your...with the tests...your English skills are fine.

This program is designed to help you prepare for your integration into the Canadian medical system.

Apparently, integrating into the Canadian medical system involves talking to actors who play simulated patients. Something you may remember from first year. First year. SIX YEARS AGO.

Anyhoo, my first day of school involved shiny new pens, highlighters, file folders and that old sinking feeling. It's not that I mind the program. It's mind-numbingly useless for a convincing pseudo-empath such as myself, but it's not hard work.

What I mind is that it's taking away from my exam study. Y'know. The actual medical knowledge. The stuff I used to know, but that has apparently dissolved in my weekly alcoholic brain-baths. The stuff that might save a life.

I came home today and tried to study, I swear. But the soft couch & fluffy cat pulled me in, then Godfrey suggested breakfast tacos for dinner (necessitating a trip to the shops) and then, suddenly, it was 9:30 and I was full of cheese. No room for facts.

I'll try again tomorrow. After my "Learn to use a Library" session. Sigh.

Bert the careful turtle...

Culture shock is an alarming thing, never more so than when you're returning "home". I had somehow thought that re-integrating into society (after my stint in the penal colony) would be smooth and easy. Not to be.

In Australia, a great deal of pride is associated with our lack of class-system. There is no aristocracy, no hierarchy and in particular, no elevation of doctors above the general population. As such, it is considered wanky to brag about being in medicine. We do it, but we know it's wanky.

Due to this lack of pretension, I have learned that when I communicate with my superiors by email, I should address them by their Christian name, and use polite but informal language.

Not so in Canada. In explaining my tardy reply to the head of U of T's family medicine residency, I addressed him by his first name (with which he had signed his initial email), used informal language and signed off with a sincere "Cheers".

His response was quick, scathing and signed "Doctor ....."

My knee-jerk response was "Wank"! It'll take some time to re-acclimatize.

In any case, given the massive disaster unfolding in Japan (and on the heels of the disasters in Christchurch & Queensland) it all seems trivial. I keep reading Dad's SAS survival manual and thinking about what I can do to help.

The Civil Defence Service has some suggestions:

In no particular order...

Things I will miss in Melbourne:
- pies
- good coffee (served with a sneer)
- blue skies and bright sun
- red Bonds undies peeking out of low-riding boy jeans
- thongs for all occasions
- Vic Market Sundays
- dumplings & yum cha
- The Age & The Herald-Sun (quiz only)
- running Princes Park
- "cold" oceans of 18-20 degrees C
- the melodious sound of Kiwi accents
- Indian take-away in Ringwood
- macaroons in GPO
- early Saturday texts from D saying "Brunch?"
- "quiet night out" this Friday
- soccer girls (both lemons & kiwis)
- rural rotation sleepovers & country races
- daily sun-block
- "Cheers, big ears!"
- housemate Masterchef
- my bed
- "You'll be right, love"
- cousins!
- cups of tea & scones
- Registrars & Interns, ressies & foxtel, proper specialty training, Nurse Bear on call
- Carlton Draught, on tap
- morning & afternoon tea
- Ti Amo with E & Z
- love-song dedications with Richard Mercer
- Target Country, utes, blundstones and Bonds singlets
- You.

Thanks for the best 6 years of my life.

Breaking news (3 days late)

Breaking my blog moratorium to share this important news:

9 artists are making a 30 second video every day for the month of February.

Geoffrey James is one of those artists. He is very good. I am also enjoying the films by Aaron.

It's a daily treat to remind one that, no matter how uncertain the future, you can always enjoy the sight of a man being hit with a Swiss ball.

www.vcam2.com

Good times.

Me & Bobby McGee

Sitting in LAX with a film of fatigue & sweat coating my skin, I feel strangely at peace.

Perhaps it was the All Blacks doing the safety demonstration on my flight. Perhaps it's the way the barista didn't sneer at my request for a skinny latte (in Melbourne, this is a deportable offence; skinny milk doesn't enhance the roast correctly). Perhaps my 30-hour stench is warding off stress and ennui. It's certainly cleared me a space at the departure lounge.

My intern year is done. I am a fully accredited, licensed doctor.

I have absolutely no idea where this year will take me. I've got plans for every continent. Jobs in every hemisphere. Reefs to dive, sun to catch, canals to skate, exams to write.

For the first time in 5 years, I have no idea where I'll be in 6 months. It's so exciting that I almost don't need a third latte. Then again, I'm turning 30, unemployed and contemplating moving into my parent's basement. Extra strong, please.

I owe a massive thank you to Ian who made an "airports and trips home" mix a few months back. I'm spending the next three weeks with it on permanent rotation. Decisions will be made with an excellent soundtrack.

And to my regular readers, thank you for following me all through the year; I'm out until I've got another job (doctor or dive instructor, either one) or until I move to Christchurch.

Kia Ora!