I love my boyfriend....

The day after Pre-Spain Drinkies (2), H and I were at the pub as normal. It sounds like I'm out every night painting the town red, but honestly, this was one crazy fortnight. It's not normal. I'm still recovering from sleep deprivation...

Anyway, H got a text from S saying he was coming to take us out, and had R with him. Cue H and I getting very excited, then horrified as we realised neither of us had perfume, make up, mints, hairbrush, etc.

I missed the look on J's face when R walked in. Apparently it was a mixture of jealousy and fury.

We went for a drink at 'our' bar, and then when we went to move on to a different bar, we realised that most places in town had shut. So we ignored the normal option (give up, go home) and instead did this.

Drove to Tesco to buy a DVD, wine, vodka, cherryade, cookies, Doritos, dip and Ben & Jerrys ice cream. Then drove to S's to watch the DVD while consuming everything else we'd bought. There's something surreal about eating Phish Food at 2am while watching Blades Of Glory.

But less surreal than realising its four am and that the sun's coming up. So we piled back in the car and drove. Drove for miles, out into the country, looking for somewhere to park to watch the sunrise. Aren't our men romantic?

We missed it. At least, we think we did. We were facing the wrong way, or behind trees, or just totally lost. It was a fun crazy road trip though. By this point it was five. Again, we could have called it a night then.

Nope. We headed over to H's, who lives practically surrounded by fields, grabbed a couple of blankets, and headed to the top of the nearest hill to watch the rest of the sunrise. We saw the first early morning blackbirds. We saw foxes frolicking across the meadows. A sparrowhawk circling the dewy fields. Rabbits leaping from grassy tussock to tussock. And a snail, who tried to invade our blanket. He went for a short flight.

It was so incredibly romantic, to be laying on a blanket watching the dawn chorus with R laying next to me. H and S were a short distance away, supposedly out of sight (although from what S said to me later on msn, he saw plenty of me and R). There's a fantastic video on R's phone of S and H wandering across the field in opposite directions to find bushes to pee in, and then you can hear R and I talking, and then a scream (from me) when S creeps up and puts the snail on R's head. But it captures that morning perfectly. The four of us hanging out companionably, yet having a lovely time with our other halves.

I saw R again the next afternoon (well, I guess it was that afternoon really). He'd had no sleep, having left H's at half six to be at work for seven, whereas H and I had crashed out on her sofa for a few hours. I went to decorate the house. Painting while hungover and sleep deprived is not generally a good idea. L found it entertaining anyway.

And I met R's mum for the second time. I met both his parents the first day I helped out with the house. His mum had turned up while we were wandering in from the garden, arms round each other, and although I wasn't introduced as the girlfriend, it was certainly implied. His Dad may have not immediately approved of me because at the time he appeared I was splattered with paint, as was R. Not much paint had made it onto the walls.

But his mum definitely likes me. Possibly because while R was arguing with her about something, I ignored him and started washing down the brickwork on the front of the house, which she'd been on at him to do for ages. See Mrs R, I'll be the perfect daughter in law. Did I really just say that? Argh.

Basically its all going fabulously. I was round at the caravan last Saturday (because the house is as yet not habitable) and hung out with R and L for a few hours. R and I went for a walk round the village, and then when we got back he asked me out :)

Then we broke up half an hour later.

It wasn't my fault! Much...

L and I were joking about how R was clearly second best because I'd got with S just weeks before. Then I was kidding about, saying R and I were only sharing in Spain because it was either that or two other lads.

R got majorly oversensitive about it. And broke up with me. Mardy arse.

So we both sulked for half an hour or so, while I sat under L's duvet on one sofa and R sat under his duvet on the other. Then much sweet apologising and kissing and making up followed. Which meant he had to ask me out again. Haha.

I am falling in love with R so fast it's unreal. He's the first thing I think of when I wake up, and I don't go to bed without texting him first to say good night. He does the same. The background on his phone is a picture of me on our last date, mucking around wearing a roman helmet at the museum. His profile pic on FB and msn is of the two of us out for a drink. I can't go more than a few days without seeing him. He blew off his man-date with S to hang out with me tonight so we don't spend the entire weekend apart.

We're quite coupley. He feeds me jaffa cakes. I change the settings on his phone. He lets me pack my excess baggage in his suitcase for Spain. I talk about him non-stop at work. His friends know everything about me. I refer to him as 'the boyfriend'. When we're together we're always touching, holding hands, hugging, kissing.

I love how we can go from a really romantic kiss to wrestling on the floor, from holding each other close to tickling, hand-holding to thumb-wars. We just click. He doesn't mind me going off on random tangents in the middle of conversations, whether its about umbrellas or some crazy idea for winning the apprentice. He mocks me for everything, but is quick to say sorry and kiss me if he oversteps the mark.

We have the nuttiest conversations about everything. Tinkerbelle wings on humans, stealing roadsigns, hats, just random crazy ideas about nothing. Occasionally now I'll make a comment when I'm talking to another friend and they'll look at me as if I'm cuckoo, and I have to remember that not everyone understands the conversations R and I have.

I don't care. This is my own little world, and right now it has R in it. I'm trying to be oblivious to the fact that this ends in September, that I wouldn't trust him being so far away and that I wouldn't cope with being away from him for so long. I know we're only been together officially for 6 days, but I can't stop myself.

I want to copy that scene from A Walk To Remember. When she says 'Promise me you won't fall in love with me'....

Officially the other half of R

Ok, so much has happened since I last managed to scribble anything down here that I'm a little lost myself. The basics are that R and I are now officially an item. As are H and S. Where would life be without Facebook's relationship status'?

I've lost track of how many times I've seen R. There was the pub/bowling night, which was pretty amazing. Stunningly amazing. Dinner at the pub was alright. I met his friend and housemate L, and we got on like a house on fire.
Then R, L, H, HW, and I went bowling. A bit of competitive banter between me and R, and L, and then we all got thrashed by L. Although he later described me as a 'worthy opponent'. Love it....
What happened after we left the bowling alley was just... surreal. I'd spent the evening being mocked for never having seen classic Disney, so we got out to the car park and R put his car stereo on, and puts 'Under The Sea' on. Somehow, over the next hour, the five of us ended up dancing in the moonlight, in this empty car park, to Disney tunes, and oldies Queen songs, and some funky S Club.

The following weekend I somehow managed to get roped into decorating. I'm not arty. I'm not even co-ordinated. Yet R and L willingly handed me a paint brush and let me loose on their new house. Muppets....

Another reason that R is totally amazing: he made me conquer my fear of heights.

He put the ladder up and then told me to climb up, while holding it secure. Oh, I should also mention that this ladder was positioned ON THE STAIRS, so I was as far from the floor as was humanly possible.

I was stood at the top of this ladder, holding tightly onto it with one hand, and gingerly painting with the other, when I turned slowly to ask for more paint to realise that R was just sat in the hallway, watching me. Not holding the ladder. Needless to say he ended up with a considerable stripe of paint down him for that.

But after that, I was up and down the ladder like a little painty monkey, standing backwards on the top rung and leaning out across the stairway to paint the whole hallway. A kind of Van Gogh - Tarzan hybrid, if you will. With two ears....

Then the following night was Double Date II. S was finally back from the wilds of the Lake District, so the four of us went for dinner. H and I displayed our wonderful lack of punctuality by only being half ready when the guys showed up at H's to pick us up, so guess which muppet had to wander downstairs sans make up with damp hair to open the door?

I got home at 3am the following morning, with the massivest grin plastered across my face.

Dinner at a lovely italian restuarant (paid for entirely by the men) was followed by drinks at what has now become 'our' bar. We played some pool, had a few drinks (supposedly paid for by us girlies, but I don't think it worked out like that), and the two couples had a little kiss n cuddle on their respective ends of the sofa.

Then we headed back to S's. I'd asked R a few days beforehand if I could borrow a DVD; namely Enchanted. Yes, the Disney one with Patrick Dempsey in it. Yep, R owns that. And knows all the words to the songs. So he'd brought it with him, and we all piled into S's front room to watch it, with some rose that S had nabbed from H's bbq the week before....

Driving home as the sun rose was kinda cool. I missed most of it. I was half asleep, stretched out across the back of the car with my head on R's chest and his arm round me. S was doing his normal 'I am a cop and therefore shall drive as if on blues n twos' driving, and R asked him to slow down, and then told him off for driving round corners too sharply cos I was asleep! Sweet... And then when we got to mine he had to wake me up. I would have resorted to poking, if not tickling. R didn't. Lovely, sweet R.

That night (being the same day that I'd got home at 3am) the four of us met up AGAIN, for Pre-Spain Drinkies, as it's now popularly known. Plus M, M's new whore, RF, and L. No, L and M's W aren't coming to Spain, but we felt like being inclusive. Especially cos some of the real crew couldn't make it.

S was doing all the introductions, because none of us knew M's W, and he introduced me as R's other half :)

And then nearly a week later R finally asked me out....

R 3

Yet another milestone - third date!

R met all of my mates last week when he turned up at the pub, and everyone thoroughly approved of him, thank goodness. So tomorrow I have to endure curry night with the lads at their local, and then bowling.

The bowling I can cope with. Give me competitive sport over conversation any day. R and I can have more psychological banter over who's gonna win and then I can pull a cute face when I lose dramatically. Perfect.

Making up for a lifetime of singledom

Jelly still has the massivest grin pasted across her face.

Not only was the double date absolutely fabulous, but R is still texting me as frequently as ever, and there has been another date since.

We took H along with us, cos originally it was gonna be a group night out, and then one by one everyone bailed, so we went to play pool and then H buggered off home about half way through the night.

Which was nice timing, actually, considering that R and I were just at the hand-holding, sitting-very-close-together, mushy-early-romance point then.

So we had half a night hanging out with just the two of us, and I think we managed it alright. Not too many silences, and any silences you do have while curled up on a window seat together don't tend to be too awkward anyway...

Finally I drove him home and we then proceeded to spend a further half hour parked on his driveway getting further aquainted. Fortunately his housemates were out...

I don't think anything can beat the first kiss moment, but a seriously amazingly second date kiss was alright by me. And the car still smells of him. It's all I can do not to inhale deeply every time I get in it now.

Oh, and Double Date II is already in the diaries for next weekend. S is away this week, so I have to put up with a mopey H while trying not to waffle on about how unbelievably lovely R is, especially since I promised I wouldn't put her in the 'friend-in-the-middle' position.

K knows about R and I. It isn't gonna be pretty when we next meet. Bring it on, girlfriend. He's mine... :D

Jelly and R, sitting in a tree...

I cannot wipe the grin off my face.

The most amazing, weirdest double date occurred last night. H, S, R and I went for a drink. Somehow in a few hours it morphed from a planned Pre-Spain drinkies event into a seriously mushy sweet date.

So... several wires have been uncrossed, and even more tangled.

S is with H. I am with R. Everything is looking fabulous.

Reflections... ...snoitcelfeR

I'm starting to seriously question whether I can cope with Medicine. I don't think I'll have issues with it intellectually. In fact, I cannot wait to start with the textbooks and labs and research journals...

But I do worry about coping emotionally.

I've been a volunteer on a medical ward at my local hospital for fourteen months. I love most of the staff, and occasionally I enjoy the afternoons I spend there. I'll admit that I relish the afternoons when the F1 on call adopts me and lets me shadow for a few hours (last time, I got to listen to aortic regurgitation! Whoosh! Whoosh!). Mostly I clean stuff, and tidy up, and run the odd errand. Mostly to send sample off to the lab, or fetch stuff from other wards, or, on special occasions, to get ABG results (I got to use the machine myself! I think the bloke who demonstrated it thought I was just a dumb doctor, rather than clueless volunteer), etc.

There is the occasional shift where I come home emotionally drained.

Memories of spending hours with a chap who had advanced Parkinsons, trying to persuade him to stay in his chair. He was so strong that once he was stood, I was powerless to stop him, so it was a case of prevention by distraction. I can still see him turning slowly around the centre of the ward, dancing with his wife.

A succession of shifts doing one-on-one work with a bloke in his 50's who'd had a stroke. He was physically fine, just prone to confusion and wandering. I used to sit in his side-room with him and read Heat magazine, or play draughts, or chess. We'd sit for hours and listen to the music chart on the radio. I'd mock him gently for wearing his trackie bottoms half-way down his bottom like some young chav.

And today.

I heard the yells and screams from the staffroom, where I'd escaped to in order to text R (and S - we haven't been for that coffee yet). I could also hear moo-ing. I returned to the ward to find an exasperated bank nurse. She had a distressed old dear in pain from terminal cancer that was refusing to calm down.

I spent the following two hours sat with this woman, holding her papery thin hand, stroking the velvet skin, softly in fear of tearing open the fragile veins. Telling her everything was ok; telling her that she needed to stay in bed to gather her energy; telling her that the nurses were looking after her, doing their best to get her well again.

I could see the tumours. A massive swollen abdomen, like a full-term pregnancy. A mass the size of her head protuding from her chest. Every so often she would shift, writhing from the pain in her bones, riddled with metastases.

She refused her tablets. Refused the soluble paracetamol I proffered. And sobbed. Cried. Dry tears, with a desperate plea in old eyes. Help me. Let me go. Let me die. And begging, in a low mutter 'I give up. Let me die. I just want to go. Let me give up. Let me die. Help me. You're a volunteer. Help me with this please. Just help me die.'

She'd spent the early afternoon telling every other member of staff to go away. Only once did I get told to leave, and that was when, against my better judgement, I was trying to get her to drink the paracetamol while the nurse gave her a Clexane injection. Every offer of tablets, painkillers, insulin; all met with a polite, but firm 'No thank you.'

She drifted in and out of sleep by the end of my shift. I sat by the bed, one hand gently clasping hers, my smooth tanned skin against her wrinkled bruised. Her eyes, once bright with sparkle, were dull, half-closed. I read, analysing an article that a nursing student friend had had published recently in a prestigious journal. I was thinking of my future, of a career in medicine. She was thinking of the past. She has no future.

One thing she said will stick with me for a long time. 'You don't know what it's like to be like this'.

She's right. I never want to experience the pain of metastatic cancer. I don't want to pass away in pain. I don't want to be so alone at the end that a volunteer sits with me.

But, when I get to that point, I want to be that defiant. I want to be as polite, yet firm. I want to wind the nurses up, yet be the type of person that they still care about even after their shift ends.

I don't know if I want to die on my terms. It got me thinking about euthanasia, and I don't want to go into it here, because I will just go round and round in circles, but how is it fair that I can walk out of here because of a petty argument and kill myself if I want to, yet a lady who has lived her whole life and wants to end the pain that she's in, can't?

I left her asleep, calm. Serene, compared to how I'd met her earlier. The nurses thanked me. I wanted to thank her, for letting me in, allowing me to see beyond 'death by cancer' and learn.

It's still haunting my mind. There is no way of walking out of the hospital doors, leaving everything there. I bring that emotional baggage home.

How do I cope with this? Will this get easier to deal with? I don't want to end up as an emotionless drone just to save myself from falling too deep into the lives of my patients. Is it humanly possible to emotionally connect with another human being and then walk away unattached?

I don't want to lose myself in the emotional trauma of the job, though...

Bitchin'

H has just really wound me up. Not even about the ultimatum thing, which to be honest, was something that needed saying at some point, and at least she did it tactfully.

When I said I'd speak to S about it, she started saying 'oh we could go for a drink with him after dance and then i'l just disappear to the bar so you two can talk'.

Yes, H, when I was 14 and needed your help to talk to boys, that would have been fine. However, I'm 19. I've grown up a bit. I don't have any issues with going out for a drink or coffee or whatever with S, just the two of us, and breaking the news myself.

I know she was trying to help, but it just irks me that she still seems to think I'm incapable of dealing with men. Ok, so I needed it pointing out to me that it was mean for me to continue hanging onto S and R, but I did realise that, I was just still in denial stage.

Surely its a forgivable offence if you take into account the mitigating circumstances that S was the first guy to show an interest in me that I didn't go to school with, that didn't know anything about me except how I am now? S was the first guy to show an interest in me in years. A took me out because he was forced into it by AH. J and I go back so far I don't even remember it starting.

I was so bowled over by the fact that a gorgeous, sexy, charming guy, one with a sensible job that even my mother approved of that I kinda lost track of the fact that we don't have much in common beyond H and Spain.

Who wouldn't be flattered by a bloke like S texting them constantly telling them they were sexy? I thrived on the attention.

I didn't count on meeting R. He didn't figure in my plans for a hassle-free summer romance with S before I left for the North.

Now I've got it sorted in my head. I want R. I'm falling for R, big time. I got myself into this 2-bloke mess, I'm quite capable of getting myself out of it.

H isn't one to talk, anyway. I don't think I'd have failed to notice that M was a whore.