Well, I can't say that the festive season/lead up to the new year was much of an elegant one, nor was 2021 in general my favorite. The highlight of the year was probably the one time I managed to single handedly verbally deescalate an aggressive patient (who had been encircled by 20 hospital staff and security) by simply walking up to the scene with an overly high, tight, and bouncing ponytail and asking them if they wanted milk or sugar in their tea. I did this whilst also avoiding being called a cunt, which has become a relatively standard nomen of adoption in my current line of work (praenomen being "Dr", of course).
Covid wiped out hospital staff over the holidays but somehow i managed to escape testing positive (perhaps owing to the herpes I was battling, putting my immune system into red alert and rendering even the indefatigable omicron variant powerless in the face of my personal space!) What this meant was that I got to sell my soul to the NHS by picking up vacant shifts pretty much every day from mid december through the first week of January.
On Christmas Eve I tried to treat myself to an Uber to work instead of the usual bicycle, particularly because it was pissing down with rain. But I couldn't manage to get one because Uber SUCKS and so I cycled in all the sog to the hospital. The doctor shortage crisis was so bad that later that evening I was called to move to a totally different borough of London to cover a hospital I'd never before worked in. In the middle of the night! Then when I went to unlock the cyclette (again in the rain), my key snapped. Did I mention it was Christmas? managed to jig the lock off at least so my bike wasn't forever chained to the bike rack (what would you even do in that instance? who would you call?), then cycled across london at 5am in my scrubs, arriving at the other hospital, said a quick prayer, before draping my broken lock around my bike to fake lock it. It was a true christmas miracle it survived the thievery bicycle corporation of london, and I could return home later that morning on my private transportation to find the fresh mistletoe I'd recently taped to the ceiling in a dried up pile on the floor, little white berries chaotically scattered everywhere, which all somehow seemed symbolic of my personal life.
On Christmas Day I had nothing to unwrap except the lid of my takeaway sushi box, which was perfect. I put Ted Lasso on for the serotonin hit I needed, and for the first time believed myself to be receiving special messages of commiseration and solidarity from the television when at the end of the episode/a particularly shiteous day, Ted snapped his house key in the lock whilst standing outside his flat in the rain.
Things got weird in my brain space working so many days in a row and flip flopping between day and night shifts. Some flavors of depersonalization and paranoia. After returning from another night shift, I put the shower on and whilst I was waiting for the water to heat up, returned to find a mountain of bubbles frothing up from the drain. My first thought was WHO HAS BEEN BATHING IN HERE DURING THE NIGHT?!!!!!! I even checked the window to see if someone had maybe climbed in. Then I noticed my very expensive shampoo which was half empty half full but turned on its head and suffering a loose cap which meant it had slowly leaked out during the night and now I can't afford a new one. I was desperate. I considered changing the "looking for" section of my Hinge to "women" for the first time because, why not?! and also couldn't stand the thought or risk of being asked again by another man the horrifying question:
'why are you single?'
I then stared for a prolonged period at my face and realized the shape of my eyebrows across the bridge of my nose was completely uneven and had anybody my entire life ever noticed this? and if so why didn't they tell me?
I thought about experimenting with psychadelics, not to party but to access some kind of higher, deeper, more meaningful version of my psyche or spirituality or humanity or life experience. I told this to my supervisor and he suggested psychotherapy rather than manipulating my neurobiology with chemicals. I'm just not sure about anything. I got my nails done with gold sparkles only to arrive back at home and wonder if I had entered the age where twenty-somethings look at me and think "she should dress her age". I should dress my age.
I had these kinds of relentless thoughts over and over in the lead up to new years day, which I (falsely) hoped would hit the reset button on those thoughts and on my life, and now I'm just wondering, does this kind of 'reset' actually happen on the 1st of January for people? or does January just continue as a more bleak, cold, wet, and dark extension of December for anyone else?
Because 2022 began waking up very groggy and sort of feeling my way to the kitchen sink à la -eyes wide shut- to fill up the kettle. Turned on the tap and was surprised to find the water vigorously spraying up at my face rather than going into the teapot. My reaction time was slow, or I was just full of apathy!! I did not scramble to turn the water off. all very odd. The screw on the sink had come loose as if to send me another sign from the universe to wake the fuck up. So I decided to go for a walk, listening to the song "ABCDE F (EFF YOU)" on repeat in esprit de corps for everyone on the planet who has ever been wronged. I then decided to take care of my skin for the first few days of the year, using copious amounts of retinol to the point i gave myself some kind of bacterial rash in the corner of my nose. Took my prescription for antibiotic cream to the pharmacist (who turned out to be a verryy junior trainee of something not a pharmacist) who then asked to take a look at the rash. So I pulled down my mask to show her. She looked at me, kind of perplexed, cocking her head to the side the way that dogs sometimes do and said:
"so it's just that right there?" whilst pointing to the left side of her face (the rash was on the right).
I was annoyed. I already had a doctor look at it and I am also a doctor and I am in a hurry and I am here for topical antibiotics not ketamine written as a script on the back of a cocktail napkin. why were we playing 20 questions?
"its the red rash on the right corner of my nose", I said.
to which she responded:
"but you have another rash on the left side of your face"
Then I, perplexed, cocked my head to the side the way that dogs sometimes do, and realized the ''rash'' she was talking about was my MOLE.
But before I could blow my top on the deeper meaning behind my rage manifesting as an explanation between the difference between a nevus and a rash, I thought...
"what would Ted Lasso Do?"
...and I kept it cool when I kept my mouth shut.
Cheers to a dignified and patient 2022.
Signing off,
Dr Cunt
