spewing...

I get off the train at a one-platform station and walk 15 minutes to the hospital. Not a single car passes me. I can't sleep at night because the silence freaks me out. From my bathroom, I can hear cows going nuts. I have gone Country.

This happened to me once before, during my first degree. 2 years at an agricultural school ("Guelph - the sound one makes when vomiting!") left me in overalls, two-stepping like a champ.

The hospital is pretty quiet at night (and yes, I'm still at work, 13 hours on) and I have caught myself singing as I walk from floor to floor.

On long shifts, we get a meal ticket to take to the cafeteria. I have enjoyed such delicacies as meat n'potato, lamb stew & frozen veg and hot chips. I sit in the empty cafeteria and listen to the kitchen staff talk about the footy.

"Crikey! Did you see Geelong? Rooted!"
"I know, I was spewing...Where was the heart?"
"Awww, and the kicking! Useless pack of mongrels, the lot of them..."

Then I get paged and go see who needs some more warfarin. Nice work if you can get it...

PS: I've started watching Friday Night Lights and the comparisons between small town Texas & small town Oz are eerie. No cowboy hats, but lots of smokes, fights and people who talk reeeeeal slow. Plus baking for every occasion.

yeehaw.

I am officially a country girl. I moved into my flat last night; they put the interns into Pleasantville-style mini-houses across from the hospital. I made a home-cooked meal from scratch (bacon/chicken/mushroom/pumpkin risotto) and slept, without earplugs, for the first time since I moved to Australia. Bliss.

The patients are starting to know my face. I put a drip in a poor old lady and left a bruise the size of a pineapple on her forearm. Now, every time I walk by her room, she waves the black welt at me and says "Not so clever now, are we?"

My 14 hour shift included drips, catheters, drug charts and a code blue just as I was about to leave for home. When I finally arrived at Ward 9 (I got lost AND got locked into a safety corridor in the psych wing) I found the team chatting to a young girl who had just hung herself on her bedhead. The usual.

Today, I had all my real work finished by about 10am and am now free to wander the hospital looking for tea, cakes and free internet. As I said, I am now pro-country.

4 days down, 61 to go.

Keitha.

The head nurse of my new country ward is named Keitha.

I saw her nametag during orientation and began giggling uncontrollably, but alas, no one else got the joke. We're a long way from Kansas, Toto.

4 hours from the Melbourne, Warrnambool is situated on a lovely vantagepoint, stunning beaches...fabulous local culture...blah blah blah.

They don't have enough accomodation for all the doctors they've employed, so I'm living in a motel (old school;my milk was delivered in a porcelain jug). The hospital was described by our director of education as "a falling down piece of crap". My patient today accused me of pretending to be smart cos I talk funny. They served us tea and scones this morning, because civilized people have morning tea.

Mixed bag, really.

I'm off to scout out the pub (for dinner, I swear. Just dinner.) and then prepare for tomorrow's 14 hour shift. God bless rural Australia.

A whole new world...

Alas, I have returned. Melbourne is lovely tonight, cold and crisp and moonlit, but I am moping. I am struggling with having to wear close-toed shoes, sensible shirts and most of all, pants. Down with pants!

That said, my current job is keeping me on my toes. I am the "relieving" intern, meaning I cover shifts that other people can't do (eg: if they call in sick). When there is no shift to cover, I get to help the anaesthetists in theatre. Monday morning, I was supposed to start at 11:30am in anaesthetics. However, as it was my first day back, I thought I'd check in with the hospital to make sure. At 8am, I rolled over in bed and rang the co-ordinator.

"Hi, this is Sam, I'm relieving today at..."
"O, great! Are you in the hospital now? Cos we need you to cover gen med."
"...um...no...I'm not at the hospital..."
"How soon can you be here?"

Which is how I ended up eating cold pizza on the tram at 8:09, un-showered and still wearing my pajama top under my sensible blouse. Worked from 8:23 (boo-ya!) till 6:20 that night and then went home to crash. Day one of relieving...

Day two has been more civilized. Anaesthetists like to talk and I'm a good listener, so I was regaled with footy tips, tales of bad doctors past and helpful hints on how to get a tube into someone's windpipe.

Awesome, right? Plus, wearing scrubs is the closest you can get to not wearing pants in a professional arena. I just need everyone to stay healthy this week. Vitamin C all around!

heal thyself?

Blerg. Last day in Thailand. I am supposed to be reclining under the firm yet tender hands of a Thai masseuse, having my pending-work-anxiety beaten out of me. Instead, my stomach rolls with every change in posture. I am pale, sweating, pained...AND I DON'T KNOW WHY!

This is possibly the most annoying day of my life. If I could say confidently, "Oh, it's a traveller's sickness", I would be ok with that. Food poisoning. Malarial infestation. Hell, I'd even take syphilis as long as I presented with a clear and obvious pattern of symptoms. But this? Malaise? Non-specific nausea? No other real symptoms? How does one treat such vagueness?

Prescription: water, french fries (o! western food!) and lying under a ceiling fan while watching made for TV movies from 1998.
Blerg indeed.

PS: Ok, I REALLY don't mean it about the syphilis.

take it with you...

I am on holiday. Blissful, blissful holiday, with snorkelling, sharks, rock climbing, cold beer, hot nights and so much delicious Thai food...

I am still at work. Every night, i close my eyes to see the screen of the Emergency Map; what patients are due to be seen, who are still waiting for test results, what needs to be done now. And while we walk on the beach, I am thinking about how I will stitch our wounds when we cut our feet on broken glass. I am listing the antibiotic regimen for travellers diarrhea (and the red flags associated). I am watching the beautiful people kiss on the dance floor and thinking about the recent increase in syphilis infections worldwide.

It's a weird bliss, but it's mine. Can't change who you are, so I've decided to embrace it; use my knowledge for good. As opposed to my usual "torture my friends with descriptions of their predicted future deaths". Happy times.

I'm going to lie face down now and NOT think about scabies infections.

Geni's on the Block

In the video, the ABC team review the Australian Censorship Board's approach to female external genitalia and look at how that is affecting the population's perception of what a normal vulva looks like.

Please be warned, the video was broadcast on ABC television, but does contain graphic images of female genitalia and surgical operations.



I think it is an important video to watch. I was appalled to hear the Doctor's description of "improving" genitals. As a Western nation, we condemn cultures that practice genital mutilation; we think it is abhorrent to cut away the outer genitals to make the vagina more "attractive". Yet we also seem to be condoning the practices of this (very shady) plastic surgeon.

Now, I realise that not everyone in Plastics is evil. Some people are out there reconstructing burns and replacing mastectomies and cleaning horrible wounds that ED docs are too scared to touch (thank you Plastics Reg!). This guy just leaves me with the same sinking feeling I get when I hear small breasts described as "malformed".

At what point do we say, "Enough!" If there must be soft porn, let that soft porn show real genitals, not the neat & tidy clefts that the Government deems acceptable.