Death to Father Christmas!
Today was far too stressful at work. Far too many moaning patients turned up on the ward claiming to be at death's door. Admittedly, most of them are pretty much there but, quite frankly, I don't see why oncology patients can't do their dying swan act in A&E like everybody else. As if I don't have enough to do without some captious old crone banging on about her terrible cough in between drags off her Silk Cut and declaring that she couldn't possibly go to A&E because she might have to wait! 'Well, we couldn't have that now, could we, love? I'll just miss my lunch break again and stay late while I do somebody else's job on top of my own for no recognition at all, but as long as you don't have to wait, eh?...' Grrrr.
This was made at the worse by Evil Father Christmas - my ancient, bearded old fart of a consultant - taking up his unending descant again about the need to wear a tie and the appalling lack of professionalism in modern doctors. This from a man who positively quivered with rage when I had the temerity to ask why I wasn't allowed to get palliative care involved in a patient's care without his express consent. Feet were stamped as he struggled to calm himself suffisciently to articulate his outrage: 'he was the director of this unit and he would not explain himself to me!' Stupid old fool! How professional is it I wonder to shack up with the married ward pharmacist of less-than-half his age? Oh yes, the hypocritical old goat wasn't the paragon of virtue and professionalism there now, was he?
I'm sure my mood wasn't helped by the fact I barely felt as if I had slept last night. It's all very well to have a somebody for sex, chats and kisses but once it's time to sleep having some other person in your bed is not conducive to a good night's rest. They make the bed too hot; they inevitably move and knock you just when you're about to nod off; even their breathing has the all the charm of dripping tap. My only hope it too wait until they are asleep and then try and get as far away from them as possible into the cool of a corner of the bed where I might finally be able to sleep. Plus, to top it all off, I have to get up at 7:20 whilst The Australian gets to spend a whole extra hour by himself in my bed before he has to get up. That's just not fair!
This was made at the worse by Evil Father Christmas - my ancient, bearded old fart of a consultant - taking up his unending descant again about the need to wear a tie and the appalling lack of professionalism in modern doctors. This from a man who positively quivered with rage when I had the temerity to ask why I wasn't allowed to get palliative care involved in a patient's care without his express consent. Feet were stamped as he struggled to calm himself suffisciently to articulate his outrage: 'he was the director of this unit and he would not explain himself to me!' Stupid old fool! How professional is it I wonder to shack up with the married ward pharmacist of less-than-half his age? Oh yes, the hypocritical old goat wasn't the paragon of virtue and professionalism there now, was he?
I'm sure my mood wasn't helped by the fact I barely felt as if I had slept last night. It's all very well to have a somebody for sex, chats and kisses but once it's time to sleep having some other person in your bed is not conducive to a good night's rest. They make the bed too hot; they inevitably move and knock you just when you're about to nod off; even their breathing has the all the charm of dripping tap. My only hope it too wait until they are asleep and then try and get as far away from them as possible into the cool of a corner of the bed where I might finally be able to sleep. Plus, to top it all off, I have to get up at 7:20 whilst The Australian gets to spend a whole extra hour by himself in my bed before he has to get up. That's just not fair!
posted by The Venial Sinner at 8:20 pm
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