On being required to be Superwoman

I have now completed three days of "independent" work, and have come to the conclusion that I am expected to have about five clones, working in sync with me, all communicating from a single brain to co-ordinate it all.  I was warned this was coming, so I'm not entirely surprised, but I didn't think it would be quite to this extreme.  I knew I'd be busy, and out of my depth and feel overwhelmed.  But I feel very busy, very out of my depth and very very very VERY overwhelmed. 

It's been a hectic three days, where I've barely had time to stop.  And by and large, I've been by myself about half the time.  My middle grade doctors have been having their various induction days and the consultants have been off doing, well, whatever mysterious things that consultants do, leaving me, very green to it all, by myself.  Which can be fine.  I'm a glorified secretary, I mainly sit and push a lot of paper around and play on the computer.  But when there's a genuine problem with a REAL person, it becomes scary.  I've spent longer than I care to admit at medical school and apparently I have so much knowledge floating around in my head, but it's true what they say, you don't really learn the practical things at uni.  And I suppose the hardest thing that you can't really get taught at uni is how to prioritise things.  I have issues with patients that I'm not sure how to deal with, paperwork being shoved in my face, requests to go and see this person, results of tests been handed to me, telephone calls from GPs about patients who came and went from the ward before I started, and my middle grade doctors giving me an ever growing list (well, orders, that I sit and list, and try not to loose said list).  And my brain tells me that the priority is to hide and flush my bleep down the toilet so no one can find me (apparently, like cockroaches, they would be able to survive nuclear armagedon) and cover my head with my arms.  But a small voice of reason somewhere reminds me that this actually won't be helpful.  So I do what I can, going by the moto of I'll try spread the disappointment of those relying on me around, so that my incompetence is not wholy apparent to anyone but me.  And I just hope that I'll improve quickly and eventually feel like I'm on top of it.  I definitely feel like I'm in a leaking boat, just bailing out the water with a teaspoon.  My spoon needs to grow and then eventually, I'll be in the position to plug the leak and all will be plain sailing.  And for those worrying about how this all sounds, yes, it is dangerous, and tettering on a knife's edge.  I am aware about this as are the powers that be, and I've just got to improve as quick as I can, because that's what I've signed on for.

And most of all, I'm saddened by how quickly I've become jaded by it all.  Reading this back, one would think I've been working for three months, not three days.

But it's not all bad.  Here are the good points:

• I still get a buzz from answering the phone/introducing myself as Dr van Tonder.  Every little time, my heart beats that little faster and I get a little smile.  It's becoming gradually less surreal, but that little moment of happiness reminds me that I'm still here by choice, and it's something I've wanted so hard for so long.  And it reminds me that no matter how bad it is, there's really no place I'd rather be.
• I'm meeting some fantastic people.  The nurses have been brilliant and I have even had a cup of tea and biscuits brought to me whilst I was sitting in front of the computer, when at 3pm I mentioned in passing that I hadn't had lunch yet (and I didn't!  Went home at 8.30(!!!) and was too exhausted to think about food for a good half hour of sitting staring into space and then calling my mom!)
• There really is no better place than a hosptial to people watch and see such a fantastic cross section of society and really find out about them.  People are truely fascinating, and so utterly capable of surprising you with the most unexpected things.  Patients are more honest, more open and to some extent, more vulnerable - you tend to see the "real"(ish) them.
• My fellow F1s are a great bunch of people.  Supportive (my ward/job is notoriously the worst in the hospital, so I get a lot of sympathy) of my stress, and very social.  We went out to dinner this week with them and some of the F2s and we had a bbq with crazy no-rule, no-score volleyball over a hedge.  It's nice to have a life outside the hospital and they are the best way of doing that in this strange unknown little town.
• Knitting - yup, where would I be without this?  I have found a shop that has a reasonable range of wool, and I have finally found a suitable yarn for the sweater that my friend Mary picked a pattern out for back in March.  She found a lovely quick pattern.  So much so that I am most likely to finish it later today, despite the busy week and having only started it last Saturday evening.
• I had a letter yesterday from the hospital (I stay in hospital accommodation) saying they are sorry for the poor state of the housing and that they have initiated an improvement scheme.  I'm hoping this means they'll install internet, so I don't have to drag my laptop to starbucks everytime I want to surf decently (the 3G is a bit hit and miss in my flat for my iPhone not to be frustrating to surf on).  And further to this, to help restore our confidence in them, they have decided to give us a month free of rent.

Yup, it's been a funny old week.  It's more or less what I expected but at the same time, nothing like what I was expecting.  I'm a bit like a zombie at the moment, but I'm sure this will improve and this is just mainly due to adjusting to the new things in my life. I'm so glad for my weekend off to recuperate and think of an action plan and how I'm going to improve next week.