let’s break this
Ah well, the topic of the last entry turned into an odd few months. Nothing concrete, nothing real, but it’s hard to know what is happening. Good thing, bad thing, three bags full thing as has become my catch phrase at work (or so a nurse tells me). Anyway, I asked a question, got an answer that was just a teensy tiny bit subtextual, and now things merely motor along in an odd way without resolution.
Maddening, it is. Maddening. Ah well, as the doctorin’ phrase goes, it’ll reveal itself one way or another, we just need to keep the patient going until then. Still friends and still amazing people keep things going, and the one in particular continues to fascinate.
Since my last entry I managed to break my emotions and brain almost completely. My psych term was a bad one from a personal point of view. From a professional point of view, I was asked to operate at a level which was uncomfortably above my skill set, and make decisions which I was not properly equipped to make. I managed patients with some episodes of minimal supervision, I did a lot of day to day supervision, I did a lot of medication management… and at the end I was told that I was operating as a 2nd or 3rd year registrar based on my work capacity and skills. Now that’s nice, but I am at least 3 or 4 years away from BEING such a registrar, and so it is a little frightening that I was required to do that.
Didn’t do much for me mentally either. I was anxious, not sleeping, irritable, incredibly labile, clinically depressed after a while, and borderline suicidal at the end of it… when I finally had a registrar for a week and it was like the sun came out, the birds sang, the ward hummed with functionality and I had support. Glorious (and flamboyant!) support. And then I moved to the rehab ward, found a great boss and registrar and some lovely nurses, and did some medicine again. My mood improved, my sleep improved (mostly), and life… continues.
Confusion, existential angst, glances, questions and such all also continue. I admittedly also went to New Zealand for a few days; which deserves its own entry. Suffice to say though on the lady issue from the previous entry, a friend had this to say:
“I really don’t know what happens now. I would say that tomorrow the sun comes up and you continue as always and wait until time changes the situation or the way you feel.”
Time is a leveller and isn’t a friend, but it’s like an old enemy that’s become the closest thing you have left anymore. If only is a passing refrain – if only I’d asked out the other one in Bowral. If only I’d had the sixth sense to see where things were fading. If only I didn’t find my own needs to be a passing concern. If only I could convince myself that sometimes, I could shut other people out, and it wouldn’t hurt them.
If only I didn’t care.