It’s half past midnight.
I was in all day and even by the time I left work at 8:30pm I was feeling more sorry for the young man with a tumour that we operated on for nine hours – and his parents – than I was for myself.
Got home, had a late dinner, a bath, read my book in bed, and had just turned out my light when my phone started ringing. It was 11pm, could I please come in to help look after a sick old gentleman for his laparotomy?
He was a lovely man, extremely polite and grateful despite his terrible tummy pain. He’s doing well so far, while I’ve popped out to the staff room for a quick bournvita (obviously cheaper for the hospital than milo) and a refresh. Not feeling too sorry for myself yet. The real low point will be if I get called in again tonight after we’ve dropped this case off in ICU. That’s when I’ll be seriously questioning my life choices. (Why didn’t I stick with astrophysics??)
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