Friday night rambles.

Everything hurts. The broken wrist (more painful than last years, therefore more broken). The heavily bruised shoulder (can't push doors open with broken wrist, other hand is mostly occupied with folders, mobile, handbag...). The revision (or lack-thereof) induced headache. Kneeeees!!! There are very few bony parts of my anatomy that are not aching in some way today.

Pity party over. Today was the last day of class before January exams (strangely, held in February), so The Fear was starting to hit people - when I left at 6pm, 4 hours after our class ended, there were 5 medics in the computer room, 12 on one floor of the library, and goodness knows how many on the other floor, or the other library. Revision pizza party has been scheduled for Tuesday night (to coincide with Domino's 555 deal! Eeee!), so some semblance of study should probably take place prior... Heh, it's Friday night and the blogs are calling.

I keep reading Mothers in Medicine and I have to admit it terrifies me! I cannot wait to have lil kiddies of my own (kids clothes are so cute! Much better than dressing up the cat), but OMG. I am terrified that my (non-medical) boyfriend will not cope well with a) not being the breadwinner, b) being left at home with the kids, c) me studying in the time that isn't spent working, d) me getting all excited over Charnley hips and the relative benefits of cemented over non-cemented NOF fixations.... I love him to bits and I can't wait to start our proper life together, both in the same place (same country would be a nice start!), with a lil flat of our own, and kidlets on the way... *daydreams*. I always thought if I was a doctor, my husband would be a doctor, you know? Not a supermarket manager/PhD student/primary school teacher/psychologist [delete as applicable when Boy finally picks a career]. That's not to say I belittle what Boy does, I just want him to be in a job he's happy with, one he gets excited about doing for the rest of his working life! Like I am with Ortho, ha. I think, no, I know he'll be awesome whatever he does - he's smart and caring, and he just gets people. I don't know how, I seriously wish I did! It was recently anonymously commented that I'm not a people person. I'm not a people person, right on. I am a patient person. My clerking today had such a crazy lifestory, I wish it were within the limits of patient confidentiality to say, but needless to say, it was full of hardship and overcoming adversity and sheer gutsiness and an immense drive to do life. I adore our wards, as I keep saying, but certain patients make you come out grinning, and today, he did.

Certain consultants also make you come out grinning, when they catch you on your own and tell you you're "a good one". EEEEEEE -SUPER-HAPPY-JOYFUL-JELLY! Out of our group of 8, there's an academic range. The 12's, who work hard but don't quite get the big concepts or the sheer volume, but are happy regardless. The 15's, who work a bit, play a bit - the popular kids. The 19's, the super-academics; the one's who, faced with a real patient, get a bit tongue tied, and mumble, and display that their only knowledge of performing an exam is from MacLeods. I am the quandary. My average is a solid 16, a 15 on weighted average. Yet on wards, I am the 20. I am the one who presents, I am the walking BNF, I am the one who answers.
Wards are my reason to feel good about this course, my motivation to keep going. Of course, time in Theatre is what makes me leap out of bed in the darkest morn before the dawn, and stay til the last patient is into Recovery, still hoping for more, but theatre days are few and far between. Wards are my weekly saving grace.