Today I’m feeling upbeat, possibly due to the fact that I only worked a half day, well only 5 hours. I had taken ‘holiday’ this morning because I had a hospital appointment and I was under the impression that some ‘investigations’ may be carried out which could make me feel slightly uncomfortable for a while. Wrong. Today was just a routine examination to see if they wanted to be more invasive, they do and the good news is that having waited 6 weeks for this appointment I can now look forward to a further 8 weeks wait for the next one. The consultant also wants me to start seeing the physio again but she broke her wrist on Monday so I would imagine that there will be quite a wait for that. It’s at times like this that private health care seems really alluring!
Work this afternoon was a clinic and wading through paperwork. Clinic was a real tonic, the women were all lovely, no strange items bought for my approval, no rampaging toddlers destroying everything in sight, just pregnant ladies eager to hear their baby’s heartbeats and have a good chat. I am really going to miss my Thursday clinic, I feel a real sense of ‘belonging’ now, all the staff are really helpful and friendly, plus I have finally succeeded in getting the maternity side of it running as smoothly as is possible. My ‘interview’ yesterday was with my prospective new job-share. All very weird really. She had been told two weeks ago, after her hour and a half interview/grilling for the post, that it was hers then last week we both invited to yesterdays interview. I just played it laid-back, I’m in post, surely they were not suggesting that I had to reapply for my job. Poor old prospective job-share was dressed up to the nines and quaking in her boots (with her lucky red sox on). I was well impressed with her interview technique, whilst I sat there pointing out the faults in the service she was full of all the ‘buzz’ words, ‘outside the box’, empathetic they flowed forth like liquid gold. At the end they just told her that they would let her know………..again. Anyway, if she gets the job she will be taking over my Thursday clinic and I will be left with the clinic from hell on a Friday. It’s not the women, although they are a more demanding crew, it’s the Practice Commandant (manager) and her ‘paperless practice’ mission. Password this, and login that and, if I get one more ‘patient’ note sent to me on the computer, which is out of any discernible context, is missing necessary information and has worse spelling and grammar than even I could manage, I shall lose the plot, run amok and smash all the PCs displaying a SpongeBob screen saver. What is the point of sending me a message on a computer if I then have to hunt down the G.P, and it is usually a G.P, who sent it, to find out what he was trying to communicate to me. Luddites, where are you when I need you?
I know this doesn’t sound like it but today I really am a happy little midwife.