The waiting game

I haven’t been in the best of spirits this week, perhaps understandable given my discovery of a lump of my testicle. The thing is being a nurse, I tend to make worst case scenario diagnoses without any diagnostic equipment. So far this week I’ve planned my eulogy and thought about top tunes to play at the funeral (Look out theres a monster coming by the Bonzo’s and Come on up to the house by Tom Waites).

Stupid and irrational I know!

I’m still waiting to hear anything about my appointment. I know it’s only been a few days, I don’t expect miracles but believe me it has been a long and dreary week.

The nurses I work with share my depressing views on self-diagnosis too. I think it comes with the job. I’ve nursed a few nurses in my time (no I do not mean wet-nurse) and we always make dreadful patients. We don’t just sit there and take a passive role. Nursing theory teaches us that healthcare is not a paternalistic experience, that the patient is essentially in-charge. However, the realities of nursing on a busy surgical ward mean that this is given lip-service. 4 staff nurses on a 30 bedded ward and one can see how care planning becomes more institutionalised by necessity.

Of course I am a psychiatric nurse and frankly at the moment my job is a doddle. Hence one of the reasons for applying for redundancy.  However, if the news is ‘bad’ then I will rescind my application as it would be better for me and the family for me to still be in the NHS.

Such fickle things eh?

I hope that by the end of the week I can look back on these past posts and laugh out at my insanity.

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About lordegburtnobacon
Greetings! I appreciate a fine Tweed and my hobbies include drinking heavily and acting. However I do not mix the two.

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