Enjoying God
On the heels of last week’s thoughts around conversational intimacy with God, this past week I felt God impressing upon my heart how much I enjoy my relationship with Him, and that I should tell you about that.
Enjoy God? you may wonder. How is that possible? What does that even look like?
These are natural questions, especially in light of the mental image of God we probably all grew up with:…
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I think I’m done.
I’ve written many posts about my experience as a doctor. Some of them are funny, some of them sad. Some of them poignant.
But I think I’m done being a doctor in the current public healthcare system where I live.
I’m a Family Medicine resident. I rotated through two and a half years of hosptial residencies, and I’m in my first year of clinic-only practice. It should sound good; no more 26-38 hour shifts on top of 12 hour workdays.
But I’m currently seeing 33-37 patients from 9-1 pm daily and 24 patients from 2-5 pm daily. I also sometimes work 6-10 pm. Each of these clinic sessions also includes a solid 1.5 inches of seperate lab results I’m expected to screen during consultation time. I work Monday through to half of Saturday. Im expected to also complete a dermatology university diploma on top of this. I have exams in family medicine this year, the year after that, and two years after. Three and a half years more at least until I’m a specialist.
I can’t do it. I can’t keep giving each patient only 5 minutes of time as I’m doing now. I didn’t become a doctor to have to balance whether I should see my patient’s third complaint or ask them to book another session so I can have time to pee and eat.
Peeing and eating is like…the lowest level of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I’ve spent all of my adult working years, from 23 years of age til now, chasing that. The right to pee and eat and drink.
The department head has his head so far up his ass with bootlicking the government that last quarter he pulled workforce away from chronic cases for half-full covid clinics and made us each therefore have to review 56 cases per four hour session. When we raised the issue of patient safety one of his associate consultants said, “I know it’s hard! Let’s get through this together!”
He is famed for picking on whether residents punctuate the numbering of their past medical history lists with brackets or periods.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
This afternoon between patients, I suddenly realised I had lost my voice. I’d been speaking too much. Moreover, I think my autistic brain had finally clicked over into the “dude you better go non verbal or you’ll die” function. Of course, I couldn’t actually afford to be non verbal. I plowed through the remaining cases so dissociated I nearly blacked out.
If I pass these next two years’ exams, I become senior resident. I will have the privilege of not being entrusted with 33 cases every four hours, but 40.
40 cases; all of them episodic patients, not chronic. This means all of them come in with new complaints, as in multiple. Time per patient gets knocked down to four minutes.
Respectfully, Fuck That.
I’m waiting until I get contract gratuity this summer, do the damn exam that everyone agrees is insane, and then I’ll apply to a plethora of private clinics in September and kiss this bloody department goodbye.
I want to be able to spend more than two minutes comforting a crying patient, dammit.
If I don’t leave soon I’ll break, and that’ll compromise patient safety over anything else.
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I don't wanna spend too much time on it in the forbidden happy end fic but alcina is absolutely going to get huffy that Igraine (who is sexually active) is not a virgin (she has had sex) because how dare Igraine not save herself for Lady Dimitrescu, a person she didn't know existed or meet until she was 49
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