Little man G.

Little man G.

What a pleasure to have you in our lives for this little while.

Your home has been Red Cross for the past 6 months. You’ve moved around in the wards and left stories all the way.

A couple of memories you have imprinted in my heart.

When I just started in ICU your were living in bed 9 and coping on a bit of high flow oxygen. And I remember one day you sitting up in bed and being entertained by a mountain of colourful toys…. And how you’d cry for your mom when she went home in the evenings.

What I most remember about your second stay with us is your big round eyes watching us work around you, the little clicking noises you made to get our attention, your big sister sitting on your mom’s lap having long conversations with you.

Your mom, sitting tirelessly at your side.

And your tube – coming out your nose similar to a  little elephant ‘slurpie’ – and how it became like another limb and you just accepted it. Wide awake, playing with your toys, hooked up to the ventilator.

I’m sorry the last 6 months were so yucky beautiful baby boy – time to sleep now.

The Scenic Route

It feels like I take the long way around a lot...and I spend a lot of time waiting. 

Waiting for a plane. Waiting for the luggage to come. 

Waiting for the nice boy to notice you’re amazing. 

Waiting to get into med school. Waiting for second round applications. Waiting for a registrar job. 

Waiting for the sats to come up...waiting for the Scoline to work. 

Waiting for the spinal. Waiting for the surgeon. Waiting for ICU to get a bed ready.

Waiting for the call to end.

Because I belong to the microwave popcorn, smartphone, PVR generation I generally don’t love it and I very seldom admire the scenery along the way. 

But why?

I always learn just as much in the waiting, if not more, as I do in the action. 

I’m not sorry I had to do a BSc first - I got to be a normal university student for a while. I got to ‘blommetjies vou’ and Serrie and Teddy Cheer and lie on the ‘Aula gras’ and sleep 3 hours a night for a week in Orientation week, twice, voluntarily... and I wouldn’t swop that for being 32 and a consultant. 

I’m not sorry I had to go work in the North West for 18 months while I reluctantly watched some of my peers walk into nicer  jobs...those were probably the 18 months I have enjoyed medicine the most. Those are the patients who taught me the most, the mistakes I will never forget, the saves that made me feel like I was swimming and not just treading water, the friends I still chat too even though we all live in different corners of the country now.

And now, at the end of another season of waiting I find myself acknowledging that I’m not sorry about waiting for this registrar job really. 

I’m grateful that I got to sink into the system slowly. Grateful for a few months of quiet supervised responsibility. For a few months when I could spend weekends off not working on research proposals and academic presentations. Grateful that I could read fiction novels and not journal articles at bed time. Grateful that there was time for drinks, and dinner parties and weekends away with lovely people. 

Everyone loves instant gratification - getting their way without much of a struggle - no red robots, clear highways - but nobody enjoys a person who is impatient. 

No one has time for the weaver on the N1 or the person who jumps the queue. 

So mostly what I have learned in all of this is how to wait graciously despite the frantic pace that everyone else seems to, or wants to be living at. 

And I’m still waiting for some things, so I hope I get better at waiting quietly and optimisticallly and  if they do ever eventually come around...I hope I’ll be greatful for scenic route.