We’re short at work this week, so I’m doing a neurosurgical list as a locum today. I had a vested interest because it was my schedule this week and otherwise we would have had to cancel something. Plus, I’m getting paid.
The junior surgeon is in charge of the playlist, which is unusually rap-heavy. He was very impressed when I managed to identify the Beastie Boys just now. Little does he know it’s only because I’m of around the same vintage. The senior surgeon says it’s in fact typical for American neurosurgical theatres, where gangsta rap and death metal reign supreme. Colour me surprised. Most of the neurosurgeons I work with favour hits from the eighties.
Simon is completely back to normal after his poorly timed D and V episode. Of more concern is a report from other members of the family of troubling symptoms over night last night. So far I’m well but I’m now primed for trouble.
One of the offspring has posted on the family chat, photos from the celebrity close encounter we had last week. Here she is in her beach attire.
There is also a photo of us! Well, technically, anyway.
We’re in the top left of this picture. You may need to squint; we’re actually under the water at this point. Sadly we were too busy wasting time looking at colourful fish, stingrays, and turtles rather than celebrity spotting on land.