Deconstructed.

I know, I know. It's been a while. Please be assured that I haven't fallen off the face of the planet. I find myself in the position where I have a bit of time to cobble something together for the blog as I'm laid up recovering from knee surgery. More about my views on the hospital experience in a bit but first I will give you a brief update on what I've been up to since my last post.



It's been a hectic few months down in Coventry, trying to find my feet in a new place and trying to get used to learning again, as the last time I was actually studying full-time was for my A Levels which now seem like many moons ago. I've settled into Halls now and I'm lucky to be living with a great bunch of folks. Though so far there has been a somewhat disproportionate number of kitchen-related incidents, non of which are related in any way to me I hasten to add. Amazingly!



The course is proving to be very tough as I expected and I've been spending a lot of time buried under piles of books. The biggest challenge seems to be balancing the breadth and depth of knowledge that is required. I'm used to having a great deal of knowledge on very specific things and changing my mindset to deal with a different style of degree and exams is going to take a bit of getting used to. The end of semester exams two weeks ago were a bit of a shock to the system, and not in a good way. Despite the amount of work I have been putting in I really struggled and I wouldn't be surprised if I find myself having to do a resit. It's been a bit of a knock to my confidence but then I had a mock OSCE last week. To the uninitiated, the OSCE stands for the Objective Stuctured Clinical Examination. It comprises of a group of stations each lasting a few minutes that test clinical skills such as taking blood pressure, history taking, resuscitation etc etc. I was pretty worried about the OSCE. Even though it was a mock I was desperate to do well in it, if only for my own peace of mid after the written exams. When it came to it, I was pretty pleased with how it went. There were things that I can improve on for next time but by and large I was happy with how I did and it was a timely boost to my confidence before returning home for surgery and prior to getting stuck into the new semester.



Obviously it's not all been doom and gloom. A particular highlight this semester has got to have been my first experience in the clinical skills lab at University Hospital Coventry which involved learning intubation on a state of the art dummy thing... that can scream, moan, shout for help, make you a cup of tea... you name it, it can probably do it. Within reason of course. Also pretty sweet was discovering an awesome milkshake bar in Leamington Spa called Cow that offer 100 different flavoured milkshakes including an Oreo one that kicks 10 barrels out of TGI's version.



Other than that, I worked hard with my driving lessons and I'm stoked to say I finally passed my driving test just before Christmas so it was great to get that out of the way! Additionally I've been working hard in the gym to get rid of some poundage and the results are starting to become apparent. I'm feeling fitter and stronger and starting to get a bit buff again which is always good :-)



Now. I mentioned at the beginning of this post that I am recovering from knee surgery. This took place yesterday and I am at the moment laid up on what I call the Chandler/Joey Chair at my folks. The Chandler/Joey Chair is a nice reclining leather armchair located by the TV. Very nice. I must apologise at this point if anything in this post doesn't make sense.... I'm on a range of strong painkillers!



You may remember from earlier posts that I was training for the Great Yorkshire Run. Well, I was until I suffered a knee injury which needed fixing. Yesterday I went into the Elland Hospital to get it all sorted and get to the bottom of some problems that have plagued me for many years.



There are many perks when you get private health care. Or should I say, private healthcare on NHS Choose and Book. You get your own room. In my case, I had room 12a. 12a. I never understand the point of 12a. You know that they really mean 13, they just don't want to call it 13 because they are superstitious. It's like being in a lift; there is never a floor 13 - there's 12 and 14 but no 13. But surely that means 14 really is 13? Anyway, I digress.



My room resembled a Travelodge type set up, except the en-suite was posher and had nice shampoo and soap. There was the obligatory naff print of a watercolour picture of some flowers at the obligatory 17 degree angle - just enough to cause irritation. An Ikea style wardrobe, bedside cabinet and desk.... all looking like perfect candidates to house a Gideon's International. However, sadly not, much to my surprise and disappointment. A small TV on a wallbracket over the desk with a tiny label warning one to 'Mind Your Head'. Not really sure how one would find one's head under the TV anyway but there you go. The viewing selection included BBC1 and 2, ITV, Channel 4 and Sky News. Channel 5 was myteriously omitted. Looking though the window, a beautiful view of a piece of grass and a dual carriageway.



A series of mix ups and reshedulings resulted in me sitting in my room from 7am-12pm. As there was no Gideon's International to read I had to make my own entertainment. I found this in the form of the hospital gown. How difficult can it be to put on a hospital gown? Answer: very. After decamping into the nice en-suite to get changed I was about to discover just how difficult. I would like to know who came up with the design for hospital gowns. Did someone sit down and think how complicated they could make it to cover oneself in a piece of cotton? And, chances are, an incapacitated person at that? Instead of just having some velcro strips to hold the damn thing on with they had to insist on some colour coded system for the multiple tie cords that are placed randomly all over the back of the gown which require the patient to be doubled jointed in order to tie them. For me, the situation was further complicated by the fact some of the cords were missing. So I did the best I could in a poor set of circumstances and despite multiple attempts ended up feeling distinctly vulnerable in the derriere region. So I decided to employ a different tactic. I decided to tie the ties first and then pull it over my head. Only I ended up looking like some back to front kangaroo. I decided the first variation was preferable and acceptable if I didn't turn my back on anyone. All in all I managed to spend about 27 minutes on this fun lateral challenge.



I finally got down to theatres. In the anaesthetic room a very small man told me to hop onto the bed. Bearing in mind the bed was about chest height I thought this was a tall order and I told him he must be joking, he'd have to lower the bed for me or get me something to stand on because it was too high. He insisted I could make it. I tried, and succeeded in getting one butt cheek on the bed, which, considering the whole gown thing, wasn't a situation I was too thrilled about. After a bit of a stuggle I made it. After he'd finished watching my plight, the small man decided he did have a foot stool that I could have stood on after all. Hmm.



An hour or so later and I had undergone an medial meniscusectomy, a trochleaectomy and a somethingorotherectomy so I can safely say I got my NHS money's worth and I have a lot less right knee to go wrong. Apparently in addition to the cartilage tear they expected to find there were a few assorted oddities in my knee that shouldn't be occuring in a knee of someone my age. They need to get to the bottom of why these things have occured but I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll be tearing down the mountain and up the football pitch sooner rather than later.



I'm now becoming aware of the extent of my rambling which can only mean one thing... it's time for more painkillers.



Over and out



NLO



P.S. How is a hospital gown like insurance? You're never covered as much as you think you are.

A Proto-Professional

I'm in situ at Warwick Medical School and have been told, along with my coursemates, that we are now proto-professions. So that means I've got to behave and act like a pillar of the community. That is hard seeings as I thought I had another few years of not acting like a pillar of the community.

I am quite concerned about the fact that I have so far completed only 3 days of med school and am already exhausted. I'm hoping it's due to the fact that I haven't stopped since moving in on Sunday. For a few days before I moved down here I wasn't sleeping well. I think this was due to nerves about such a huge impending change.

I arrived at the Halls of Residence at about 3pm on Sunday and started to unpack. There was stuff everywhere and I didn't really know what to do with any of it. It is kind of sorted now except for the wok which is room sharing with me due to a bit of a lack of space issue in the kitchen. I guess with a bit of lateral thinking it will join it's other cooking implement friends in due course.

After I'd strewn my belongings around the flat it was time to head to the welcome BBQ for this year's cohort. Only, as it wasn't BBQ weather, it was more of a case of some microwaved sausages in a sports pavillion. It was nice though, the atmosphere was great and everyone was quickly talking and laughing with each other. Not quickly talking, as talking quickly, but quickly getting on with each other I mean. Kind of thing. Later on we headed onto the pub on the campus to meet our second year 'Mums and Dads' who are going to be our mentors for a while and occasionally cook for us and buy us drinks. The important things like that. All in all it was a fun evening and great to meet new friends.

Monday and Tuesday were packed with the usual admin type lectures. You know, the IT services lecture conducted in obligatory monotone amongst other delights.

Last night there was a pub quiz and although we should have won we didn't. So that was the end of that really.

Our lectures today were more of the sort of thing we are going to expect over the next 18 months and included intros to anatomy, histo (supposedly my forte, having impressed the lecturing pathologist on my answer on why we do frozen sections) and communication skills.

Today was the first proper go we had at working in our study groups and it went pretty well. It was a bit daunting at first but it's nice to be able to mix lectures with active discussion and tasks.

The rest of the week is going to be in pretty much the same form. The pace really is hectic I think I'm really going to have to have my finger on the pulse (boom tish) to keep up,as is everyone. I'm pretty sure there's going to be some great laughs along the way though and the staff and facilities are excellent so I think we are all in for a great time here.

Tomorrow night's tomfoolery is a night out on the tiles called Dr and Nurses Night. This involves cross dressing (mainly lots of guys dressing as nurses) and hitting a nightclub in Coventry. It all sounds a little surreal. It always worries me also when an establishment has some deviant spelling going on in the name as it's never usually the sign of a prestigious establishment. Anyway, I'm sure it'll all be very funny.

Looking forward to popping back up north to spend some time at home. This week has been a bit full on but next week I should be able to get into some routine and get things a bit more sorted.

Over and out

NLO

Here I go again on my own

Just a quick post today. I spent most of the day thinking about packing, procrastinating, making a tentative attempt at packing, then being distracted. I think I finally got most of it done about an hour ago. Hmph. I hate packing.

Well, this time tomorrow I will be in situ at University of Warwick. I'm heading down around 11.30am and moving into Halls before then meeting my new coursemates at a welcome BBQ and going to the local pub to meet our 'Mums and Dads'. This confuses me, I'm pretty sure I've known mine for nearly 26 years. What it is, we get assigned to someone in the 2nd year who will be a point of contact for us for a while. I'm hoping mine will tell me how to pass the exams. And they allegedly cook a meal for us. Sounds good to me :o)

I'm pretty tired now. I'm feeling kind of nervous at the moment about the move and everything but excited aswell. I'll try to update the blog during the week as and when I get time. This week is full of lectures (as it will be from hereonin) and there's a lot of stuff that's been organised by the Med Soc, with pub quizes, pub crawls and other various forms of pub based recreation happening through the week. I've been informed that the highlight of the week is going to be Dr and Nurses Night on Thursday which involves lots of men cross-dressing as nurses.

More about that later.

Over and out

NLO

Play that funky mu-zak... on second thoughts, don't.

Today I'm going to talk about the music that we have to endure when being put on hold.

Yesterday I had to phone up the council with a query regarding my council tax. I don't like having to make phone calls at the best of times but this was one call I was dreading. It was just a straight forward question I had, nothing too complicated to sort out so that wasn't why I'd developed a nervous twitch. It was down to this reason alone - I knew the torture that the council had lined up for me for having the audacity to trouble them.

The fact is this. Being put on hold is bad enough. Frustrating - check. Boring - check. No scratch that, I mean mindnumbing - check. Nowadays I usually make sure I'm logged onto the internet when I know I have to make a call like that so at least I can do something useful, for example, blog about how bored I am being put on hold. However, the first time I ever phoned up the council I didn't expect the racket that they put on for me to listen to, presumably to keep me entertained. I think it can only be described as being sort of an emsemble of reception class age children trying (and failing) to sing and clap both harmoniously and in time and thus achieving neither. I can sort of see how this could be considered endearing but not when a 'genuine' brass section, courtesy of a Casio keyboard from the 80s accompanies it. And just incase you don't appreciate it the first time, they have it on a loop. So your hopes of the song changing to something more tolerable in a little while are dashed.

I am pretty sure that the council tax phone lines can't always happen to be engaged for around 10 minutes each time someone phones, but it certainly seems to be the case in this instance. This leads me to wonder if the staff know how bad the hold music is and, for their amusement, keep you hanging on for a token length of time. Then by the time they respond you either - a) forget why you have phoned in the first place b) are covering your ears to block out the music but don't hear the person talking to you on the other end of the phone who then hangs up on you or c) have lapsed into some sort of coma. My other theory is that they just pick something awful for you to listen to with the hope it's going to put you off phoning in the first place.

This all leads me to the important question - where the hell do they find this tosh to inflict on us in the first place? Do they employ some kind of 'hold music scout' to seek out the most dreadful noise to delight us all with? Are there special recording studio facilities where people who are desperate to get their big break go to in the meantime to earn a crust by deafening the poor unsuspecting consumer? Answers on a postcard to the usual address please.

Over and out

NLO

PS - Very soon you will be getting some actual, genuine , real-life insight into what life as a medical student is like. That's right folks, on Sunday I'm moving down to Warwick and Monday will be my first day on the long path to finally becoming a doctor. Help us all.

Gutter-ball and other stuff

Going ten-pin bowling never fails to provide me with some choice inspiration for comedic annecdotes.

I went the other day. Well, one day a few months ago. There was a whole range of talent on display on this particular occasion, especially in terms of bowling style.

It occurred to me that no matter how rubbish at bowling you think you are, just taking a minute out to witness what's going on around you can be a quick way to restore your self confidence.

For example, those people in the lane next to you. The gutter-barriers have been deployed for ages and they still manage to miss the pins totally. So then one of those ramp things appears. You know, the ones where you just put the ball on the top and let it go. The things that are used by tiny kids. Although, in this instance, it's a group of increasing desperate adults that are using it. After several minutes of careful lining up of the ramp and much discussion, the ball is finally released. With baited breath, the ball is observed as it makes it's painfully slow progression down the lane at approximately 0.0000000001 MPH. When those concerned realise that the outcome of this line of attack is not going to be known for at least another 45 minutes they head off to the bar to get some more drinks in and return to see the ball make contact with the pins... successfully knocking one down.

Then there's the party that go all out. This strategy involves ricocheting the ball against the gutter-barriers at full-pelt. This technique does seem to be quite successful, although the onlooker wonders whether those who use this method and get a strike are fully justified in celebrating by punching the air, almost in awe at their obvious skill at bowling.

Next time you go bowling, take a good look at how people run up to the line and deploy the ball. Variations include:

The Waddle: No reliance on the use of speed here, the concentration is purely on trying to achieve accuracey. Usually includes a pause at the line to size up the situation before bowling the ball straight into the gutter.

Banana-arm: Sadly I seem to have this affliction. No matter how much care is taken to bowl straight, ultimately at the last second the arm seems to lock fully and be wonky, causing the ball to be deposited into the gutter almost instantly.

The Catapult: The clues in the name here; the bowler swings the ball forward so much that it takes flight and finally makes contact with the floor about half way down the alley. This is actually quite a good technique to use, as the less time the ball is on the alley, the less chance it has of veering off into the gutter. Best not to use it if alley staff are in the vicinity as it probably dents the lane. I've had good results employing this. Apart for the time I combined it with Banana-am and the ball ended up in the lane next door but one to mine.

The Reverse-Catapult: Same as above, except the ball is deployed backwards into the group of innocent bystanders. Risk of injury.

The Human Cannon Ball: A technique I discovered. It involves running up to the line, slipping onto knees and sliding down lane towards pins. Incurs a penalty: only to be used if all else fails.

At one of my local bowling joints, they decide that bowling obviously isn't hard enough and turn the lights out at certain times, only leaving tiny lights on down the lanes. It's like some wierd ninja-bowling thing. I went to complain to the staff and they pointed out it was actually past closing time.

Now that I've probably made you all paranoid about how you bowl, I'm going to move on to some other things.

It's been a busy few months for me, with lots of stuff going on so I'm going to quickly sum things up so you're all in the know.

>>> The situation when I last posted was that I was waiting to see if my application to study medicine had been successful. I'm stoked to tell you all that in mid April I received and accepted an unconditional offer from University of Warwick. So I'll be starting on 8th September! Very, very excited and busy sorting stuff out!

>>> After my initial good start to training for the Great Yorkshire Run (which happens to be on Sept 7th, so day before I start at Warwick!! Eek!) I was a bit slack and the training trailed off but I'm now putting effort in and been doing a fair bit of training the past couple of weeks. It's been going OK, I don't think I'll be breaking any records for the run, but it'll be my first 10K, and it'll give me a good base to build on for future events. I'm having a few days rest at the 'mo, got an ankle twinge and an old knee injury is playing up- oa injury on each leg so not even limping as it's all evened out! Hoping to put my running shoes back on come Monday at the latest.

>>> There seems to be some wierd religious cult thing that has obviously taken a likely to my blog name and pinched it for their website. Please remember that my address is http:// and not just www. I've tried to see about changing my blog address but I can't do it without starting from scratch and losing my archived work. This issue was brought up when someone clicked the link to my blog from my JustGiving page and ended up on the cult website but I think I may have sorted it now.

That's all for now folks!

Over and out

NLO

What's in a name?

Did you watch the Grand National last weekend?

I've never really understood why people get so excited by it but I decided to try and get into the spirit of it by putting a few bets down.

I decided to go for a very scientific approach and pick ones with names that I liked.

The first one that stood out for me was Mr Pointment. Very good, that. I think fate was surely telling me something. No matter how hard I try, I always end up being late for things, no matter how early I set off. As I'd managed to miss my opticians appointment that morning I thought Lady Luck was smiling down on me. So I backed Mr Pointment, a few quid each way, I think it was about 25/1. Then I saw a horse called Simon. No stupid, poncey name that most racehorses have. Just Simon. So I had to back him, again, couple of quid each way, can't remember the odds. And Slim Pickings, I recognised the name and knew it had done OK in previous years.

I settled down to watch the race. All my horses got off to a decent start. As the race went on, Mr Pointment got closer to the front and then into the lead. Several fences to go, still in the lead, with Slim Pickings 4th, I was very nearly getting excited and planning what to spend my winnings on. Stupid that. Mr Pointment by name, Mr Pointment by nature. About 3 fences from the end, he obviously decided he was doing far too well and running the risk of making his appointment of being 1st over the finish line. So he slowed down. And slowed down. And slowed down a bit more. Just enough for about 7 horses to overtake. Neigh neigh. I got a few quid back from Slim Pickings finishing 4th.

A horse called Comply Or Die won. Thinking about it, I should really have backed that. It would have been told to win the race or else and if it didn't comply, well, it would have been curtains for it. Obviously. Maybe I shouldn't think too much. I'm confusing myself.

I'll leave you to ponder the point of this post.

Over and out

NLO

Only dead fish go with the flow

Just what is it about kids and swimming pools?

In a moment of what I can only admit was pure stupidity I decided to go for a swim last Sunday morning. Yup, Sunday morning. Possibly one of the times when most kid-congestion occurs in a public swimming pool.

I should have known what was going to await me and certainly viewing the unravelling scene of chaos through the windows should have been enough to change my mind. It nearly did. For a second. But then I figured that I'd made the effort and walked to the sports centre and so I'd jolly well go in. I couldn't let myself be scared off by some children. I'm bigger than them, after all. Well, maybe slightly.

So I parted with an inexplicably large amount of cash in order to face this ordeal and entered the changing village. Changing village. That's a joke in itself. It sort of conjures up images of civilised transition of the wearing of outdoor aparrel to something more suitable for swimming (i.e. swim suit). Let me tell you, there's nothing civilised about it. There's no village green for a start off. What's a village without a village green? The changing village in this particular context is this - a unisex free-for-all with changing cubicles that have not one but two doors. If you're lucky, when you lock one door, the other will also lock. If you're not so lucky and are happily in the throes of derobing safe in the (incorrect) knowledge that no one will see you, there is a pretty high chance that in fact only one of the two doors will have locked and you will soon be accompanied by a complete stranger who thinks that the cubicle is vacant. And then there's the lockers. Most of them are out of order. When you find one which is working and isn't occupied you have to claim it by holding this metal bit on the wrist band that you are given on to it. Your next task is to put your stuff in the locker. Not easy if you have loads of stuff. There's no way of wedging the locker door open. You put your shoes in, turn to get your bag.... the door slams shut and you have to unlock it. Repeat this sequence several times until all your clobber is safely stowed.

If, like me, you are optically challenged, you have to find your way to the pool without glasses or contact lenses. I once ignored the warning not to wear contacts in a pool and then spent the next 2 hours trying to remove them as they had welded to my eyes due to the humidity. Finding your way to the pool is made somewhat harder by the likes of unattended and disorientated toddlers and unattended and disorientated parents. They form an assault course of bodies skating across the wet floor. The toddlers, in particular, seem to made a beeline for your knees and walk repeatedly into them until their course is altered.

So then I made it to the pool. It seemed more chaotic and hell-like from poolside than it did as an on-looker. After locating a section of pool about 30cm square, I entered the water and attempted to swim. Looking around it was becoming quite clear that this was not entirely possible. Too many obsticles. More disorientated kids and parents. They sort of hang around the shallow end in clusters, looking harmless. So you try to swim. The clusters suddenly burst into life, arms and legs flailing about and seemingly follow you around the pool. So you try to swim faster to avoid being swallowed by the resulting tsunami. Then a two-pronged attack occurs. More clusters appear infront of you and split to let you swim past. Only your briefly reinstated faith in humanity fades when you realise that the kids have separated in order to splash each other. And yes, they spot the perfect time to do this is when you are in line with them. From nowhere you get a an eyeful of water. If, like me, you can't see, this can be a disaster. Your already limited sight has been further diminished by about half until the stinging stops and you get the use of both eyes back.

This was all getting too much so I decided to stick to swimming widths in the relative quiet of the deep end. Only some parents decided it was a great idea to teach their offspring how to dive. It seems to me, it doesn't matter where abouts you swim, there is always some sort of hazard. In the deep end, its the risk of being bombed. Like the whole splashing thing, kids seem to wait until someone is in close vicinity before jumping on top of them.

And if you survive all that, there's still no guarantee that you've made it. On Monday I started coming down with 'flu.

I can't wait 'til I get my own pool.

Over and out

NLO