A Beautiful Mind

I have always been a little saddened by the dearth of talent amid the medics. At the beginning of each new job I arrive bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to meet my new co-workers. In the preceding days I've dreamt of Ryan Philippe or Alex Zane look-alikes that I can drool over at our Sodhexo luncheons. The reality is inevitably heartbreaking. The vast majority of doctors are, sadly, minging weirdos.

The Young Professor is one of our registrars. He lives with his mother. I could stop there...but I won't. He wears tweed suits that, combined with his unruly, grey, wavey hair, makes him look far older than he actually is. He flits about the ward like a manic dandy. He speaks with such pressure that he trips over his own words and degenerates into a frustrated stutter. The slightest problem might sent him into a frenzy of twitching and eye-screwing as he reprimands anyone and everybody for their preceived mismanagement. Worst of all, he never, ever leaves the bloody hospital: he's in early; he leaves last; he even came in on Christmas day when he was supposed to be off! Don't get me wrong: he's one of my favourites - the eccentrics always are - but there's no getting away from it; the boy sure is bizarre!

How on Earth I am supposed to climb the career ladder when people like The Young Professor are already clinging on to the higher wrungs? Yesterday my own reg suggested I start a research project and my heart sank. I don't want to stay behind late and work on some pointless research whose only goal is to feather my CV; I want to go out and dance and drink before I'm too old to do so without consistuting a repulsive spectacle. Yet, on the other hand, I do want to progress and I do like neurology so I know I probably should. Sometimes I wish I were a barman or a shop assisstent who never thought about work again as soon as they walked out of the door. Instead, I'm writing this to put off making my presentation for the Grand Round on Friday. At the same, in the back of my mind, there is the ever-present, gnawing guilt that stems from having forgotten to do something for a patient today. It's like you never leave work, like it never stops, like you're always on call. In the words of a great philosopher: I want to break free!