Chapter Nineteen - "Back to the Grind"

So the holidays were finally over; the day I didn’t think would ever come had arrived. I returned to London last night, and spent Sunday evening settling in and relaxing, before going off to church with Phil and the girls. This year the Manor has new features, such as fresh paint and a new housemate, arriving in September. One new novelty about the house this year, which I particularly like, comes in the form of a board we have just inside the door; we can move little pictures of ourselves to the ‘In’ position (when we’re in) or to the ‘Out’ position (when we’re out - no, wait...) – I need never ask who’s home ever again. Though I probably will.

After the evening church service, and discovering to my endless enthusiasm that I was due to play bass for both services next Sunday, I went straight back to the house to start packing for the busy day on Monday – the return to ‘university’ life. As expected I found myself walking home in the pouring rain with nothing waterproof, but my new hoodie; which, by the way, was a good buy. I’ve been waiting such a long time to buy a ‘neutral’ hoodie. If only it had been in grey.

The following morning arrived soon enough. It was my first day back at my clinical placement. I headed out of the door in my jacket to a grey sky. Wearing my usual ‘placement attire’ I began to walk down the street, the rain pattering lightly on my head. I thought nothing of it at first, knowing I could pull up the hood of my jacket if I needed to, but the further away from the house I walked, the harder the rain seemed to get. However, rather than turning back to get either my new raincoat or ‘Man-brella’, thereby risking catching my train (which I was forty five minutes early for anyway), I pressed on, my walk turning into a jog and then a run, as I dashed into the station. It’s at times like this that I end up gauging my dampness by the shade of brown which my shoes have turned to. I regretted not going back, as I waited in the ticket queue, wiping rainwater from my forehead and trying to look casual – and failing miserably. Everyone else who arrived at the station seemed to casually walk up looking perfectly dry and comfortable. And here I was with wet trousers and a damp wallet. Not brilliant. By chance I met a friend travelling all the way on a work-related day trip to Cardiff, and waited for my train, while laughing at the announcement for the “7:13 train to Guildford, via Guildford”.

Things got better as the rain cleared. I was able to walk from the station to the hospital at the other end. As I left the station car park and walked up the road, I confirmed my suspicion that the hazard perception clip on my DVD was in fact filmed in Farnborough. I knew it! I cheered to myself.

I was working in the general x-ray department this week, worried that I would have forgotten all I’d learnt previously, bearing in mind that it had been seven weeks plus since I had last taken a normal image. Add to that the fact that I was using new unfamiliar equipment, and you can appreciate my dilemma. The morning was quiet, and though it was nice not doing anything at first, I gradually realised I was simply delaying the inevitable and felt more nervous. I wanted to do something. A few patients came, and I was shown some simple procedures, which I could attempt the next time. The machinery was actually a lot easier to use than I anticipated, which was immediately reassuring. And it had disco lighting effects when we pressed the button! What more could you ask for?

In the afternoon things picked up, with more patients arriving. There were some classic moments to be had too. One eighty-something lady arrived for treatment for the second time that day, and was pleased to see me and my colleague again. She kept saying how happy she was with how we dealt with her, and how nice we were. I was encouraged and it made my day. Why couldn’t all patients be this friendly? The other moment was when I was imaging a lad who’d come in with a cast on his ankle. He hobbled into the room on his crutches, and eventually lay down on the bed. The radiographer innocently asked him, “Whereabouts did you break your ankle?” to ascertain the nature of the injury. The response came: “Er, I think it was Weybridge”. Gee, that’s going to improve your prognosis!

The rest of the day passed busily and soon came 4:30; home time. My morning prayer had worked – I certainly felt satisfied with my work during the day, and looked forward to what tomorrow had to bring. Note to self: I must remember to bring my attendance sheet.

Off now to watch Michael McIntyre, and do some other stuff.