A country tale

On an unseasonably cold February morning this fabulous lady found herself being exiled to the bush. Gone were the fabulous afternoons spent at the Paris end of town, clicking about in Louboutin heels with the aroma of Coco Chanel blessing all those who passed near. Instead shoes were traded for gumboots, the Paris end for the prairie and an odour that would never grace the likes of Coco.

Into each life some rain must fall, and this young lady found herself shielding from the floods. Suddenly, a career that had brought so much joy, passion and stability turned into an ordinary job. One that required dreading the alarm clock, the telephone and the setting and rising of the sun. A simple task to be completed to keep the bank accounts full rather than an endeavour to look forward to when leaving one's beloved home.

But it's always darkest before the dawn and wherever there is rain there must also be sun. Little rainbows appeared behind those stormy clouds. An adoptive family to be cherished, a group of workmates that were to be socialised with, nights out and red wine, the return of discipline, bird like poses on the bedroom floor and a passionate reacquaintance with the written word.

Universe, I am ready. 

The lost year

As the feeling of Sunday night dread sets in, as yet another Monday morning and twelve others in a far away town await, I stumble upon this long neglected memoir of sorts and am compelled to document the lost year.

January

The final month of being sheltered in my chosen specialty. Friendships and admirationships of those who have gone before me - Miss Joyous, Miss Not-as-terrifying-as-she-wishes-to-portray, Miss No Nonsense. Lunch times in the sun at the nearby dumpling house, sneaking off for midday yum cha, warm nights frolicking around time, settling a major purchase. The perfect way to end the beginning of my career.

February

Growing up quickly in the Ivory Castle. Study schedules, an earnest (but failed attempt to keep up with the timetable), learning to multitask and be responsible for those below me. A month that passed all too quickly. Another valentines day without roses and the birthday of the golden ball of fluff that has enriched life beyond words.

March

Flying away from the eternal nest and moving in with a Cambridge sister. Nights (alternative) spent cultivating our culinary skills, sneaking away for a warm cooked meal in the prodigal home, an unexpected turn of events requiring a change of body clock and endless attempts at discipline that ended in procrastination.

April

Weeks on and weeks off at night and day. Days spent getting used to house noises at day time, howling winds and snuggling under the doona at day-night. Sneakily studying during the day, a close friendship with Miss Barbie and breakfasts when everyone else was at work.

May

More of the same as above. First times, scary times, lives almost lost but then saved. Losing respect for colleagues, lives endangered.

June

Back to every day life on the toughest team at IC. 12 hour days as the normal, orchestrating the riskiest of medical procedures. Blowing out candles on a lovingly made chocolate fudge cake by a new best friend. Progress made in study. Novels given up for a year.

July

Back on reverse body cycle but without the pleasure of Miss Barbie. Having to work with someone who I wish never to be like when I grow up. More lives almost lost, frustration at what could have been prevented with some competence and knowledge. Further attempts to study

August

The glory of holidays. A strict study and diet timetable. Rhubarb compote with porridge. Weeks in the Orient. Nights spent admiring athletic glory

September

Meeting some of the most amazing women in a specialty that I did not think I would ever come to love. Losing amazing women and feeling the heartache deep in my core. The start of 0300 mornings.

October

More of the above

November

Finally a break from the heartache and sadness. Those above me sharing picnic lunches, bread and alcohol somehow combining into one, solo procedures, putting up with the insane.

December

More study. Boxing day sales. Another Christmas day not spent at home. Meeting amazing teachers and a passion for something that certainly did not come naturally.

January

Eat. Sleep (a little). Study (a lot).

Panic and anxiety

Here's to the rest of 2013 with stories worth documenting.

Book Number One - The Lost Art of Keeping SecretsThe

The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets - Eva Rice

It took me almost a month to get through this book but boy was it a riveting read. Once I had a few hours to myself I simply could not put the book down. Can't wait to read more from the same author and I hope she brings these characters back for another book.

Book Number Forty Seven - Freakonomics

Freakonomics - Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner

Simply the best non-fiction I have read all year. A fascinating insight into our world from a whole new set of eyes. Loved this and can't wait to read part 2.

Book Number Forty Six - Vital Signs

Vital Signs, tales from the intensive care - Ken Hillman

A look at the history of ICU and whether what we are currently doing is the right thing. An easy, interesting read but nothing spectacular.

Book Number Forty Five - Petite Anglaise

Petite Anglaise - Catherine Sanderson

I thought this would be a light hearted look at life in Paris but turned out to be the story of a woman in Paris through her most complicated time. I don't want to comment on the morals of the whole situation but the book was written concisely and rather to the point

Book Number Forty Four - Never Say Die

Never Say Die - Chris O'Brien

The memoir of a truly great surgeon Prof Chris O'Brien. Tragic, as all the epic tales are, but uplifting, humourous and very real.