A different sort of Christmas

So this year we spent Christmas abroad, a first for us. We spent 23rd - 27th in Lapland, which I would highly recommend to anyone who is a child, has a child or has ever been a child! It was magical despite Santa being away, busy on his deliveries ;)

In case, like I was, you're not actually sure where Lapland is, it's the Northern region of Finland, sort of like how Scotland is to the UK. Interesting fact: there are 200,000 reindeer there and only 6000 people! So you can imagine how remote it is.

If you're interested, we went on a package holiday deal which usually would make with writhe in terror at being prohibited whilst travelling, but it is an extremely difficult place to navigate around so actually I think this is probably the best way to do it! The great thing is all your meals are in place (our hotel was called the Davvi and excellent) and all activities and the necessary transport organised for you so it makes for a very relaxing week :) We rode reindeer, huskies and snowmobiles! We also learnt to ice-fish with a local which was cool in both senses!

Christmas Day was probably the highlight for me when around 5pm in the pitch black (as there is only 4 hours of daylight in the Arctic Circle at the moment) we saw the Northern lights whilst being pulled on a sleigh by a reindeer! To top it off I also convincingly saw shooting stars for the first time!

Santa Bread: clearly too artistic to eat!

So it was a very lovely Christmas but actually I wanted to talk more about the volunteering I did yesterday with Crisis UK.

Crisis is a charity that helps the homeless (http://www.crisis.org.uk/). Every Christmas time they set up week long centres from 24th - 30th so that homeless people can enjoy a week inside in the warm, with beds, showers, and three hot meals a day. They also provide them with services like medical check-ups, hair cuts and shaves, as give them new clothes and toiletries and help and advice on how to get accommodation.

I have actually previously tried to volunteer for two years, but the scheme is so popular in London I never managed to get a place! Determined this year I kept my eye out on the Crisis website from October and got my place on the last day (30th December) at the Rough Sleepers Centre.

I went to training a few weeks ago and remember being very excited afterwards. The people there were clearly down-to-earth, excited to volunteer too and essentially like-minded. However when it came to the night before I volunteered I actually felt very apprehensive. Originally I had hoped to volunteer with a friend but they had had to pull out. I even wondered whether I should continue for a moment. But I thought back to how long I had wanted to do this, and the silly doubts quickly subsided.

I worried though on my journey to the centre... would they resent me? What could I say to strike up conversation without being hurtful? Would they be aggressive or violent?

When I arrived I did feel slightly like a deer in headlights. But looking back it was 07:45 so no wonder why everyone looked groggy! After the morning briefing I was sent to man the dining area with a more experienced volunteer.

We essentially were standing outside doors smiling for a few hours, but you know what? It was great fun! We spoke to the guests as there was a lot of thoroughfare there and the lady I was with was fantastic with them which made me quickly at ease. Of course they were normal people. Why did I feel any fear at all I wondered? In fact they were very friendly and generally talkative, full of stories and different perspectives. I won't forget when one fairly elderly gentleman walked up to us and said thank you very much and gave us kisses! He wasn't the only one either. They were so grateful and though I knew I was doing really nothing, the efforts collectively Crisis goes through every year clearly were appreciated.

The charity (not a state I'm in)

After breakfast, one of the guests gave a thank you speech as it was the last day the Centre was being used. He himself had been a volunteer in previous years, but this year returned as a guest. His speech was very moving for us all. Apparently most of us are only three months away from homelessness, if you lose your salary/support. It makes you think when you hear it like that.

As the centre was closing there were some disputes, naturally - who would want to be pushed back on to the streets? But mostly, everyone was happy. In fact the gentleman I mentioned even became rather aggressive towards the other guests at one point. Such is the volatility of a vulnerable person. When we made a huge human chain to pass out all the clothes/equipment/tables/chairs from every floor of the building to the removal vans outside, he stood at the entrance to the centre, cheering us on. He was the last guest left but clearly enjoyed being there!

The few hours I spent with Crisis opened my eyes to a world I had never really let myself into. I am guilty of being one of those city dwellers who tends to be.. almost I think slightly afraid for some reason, when I used to see someone in the doorway of a shop, even when it is all too customary a sight... I don't know why. I guess it's fear of the unknown? My only interactions with such people is buying the occasional Big Issue from a street vendor or watching my father give money to them. Other than that I had never stopped to talk for prolonged lengths of time. But now I see of course these people are just like ourselves, just their situation less lucky, going through a difficult time, and in need of support, like we all are. It could happen to any of us.

When I got back I ran into the shower and straight to bed, exhausted. I now sit here with biceps slathered in analgesic ointment, and raring to go next year, hoping that I will be able to slot in more shifts with whatever Christmas schedule I may have. How lucky we are to have a shower, a bed and a roof to run back to whenever we wish.

In 2014, let's be more friendly towards our neighbours :)

Happy New Year!

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas

So it's the tenth day of the twelfth month of possibly what feels like the shortest year of life so far..! 2013 seems to have passed me by... The other day I was thinking about what I've been up to for the last 11-and-a-half months to make it feel like so much less.

The year started off fairly quietly from what I remember (and hence the starting of this blog!), but deep behind the façade of calm was an inner fear that the exams our elders had always reminded us were the hardest of them all, were approaching. I trudged along, going into the various placements we had been sent to. The first one in January was a GP placement. Here I was allowed to have my own "clinics", getting to see patients for the first time by myself, before reporting back to a doctor. 

A particular highlight was helping to diagnose a patient with diabetes... It was a shock to them, I remember, and me too actually, as they had come in for a completely different problem, but one of the tests seemed to show that they were very likely to have diabetes. I remember she was scared, afraid to be labelled with this new diagnosis. I tried to explain that actually though it might not feel nice, it was better to have been "caught" early on rather than for example because diabetic complications had arisen. At least she could be treated and hopefully those complications be avoided. Rather ironically I remember guiltily having a doughnut that evening and thinking of this new diabetic patient. No one is perfect!

Who can say no to the Krispy Kreme factory after a hard day's work?!

In March, I commenced probably the one placement in medical school I always I would enjoy. But in fact it turned out to be a bit of an ordeal! Obstetrics and gynaecology ("O&G") deals with health and disease surrounding birth, and women. As I had previously spent an extra year studying for a BSc in Reproductive and Developmental Sciences, I had thought this field could be my calling. The reality however was very different to my expectations. Whilst I didn't mind the "G" side, the "O" left me even wondering for the first time, if medicine was always a good thing..

On day 1 of labour week I watched my first delivery. I remember feeling very odd. The mum-to-be was screaming in pain, and over the hours as I stood with her and her husband, the pain intensified and her anguish became understandably, more and more apparent. And yet, we all knew that the pain "had to be there", almost as though the pain was good, that pain was progress, for her and the baby. Fortunately her labour was fairly short, about 3 hours, and the instantaneous joy we all felt when that head popped out was a feeling I won't forget. She probably could have delivered at home, she required little pain relief and really the hospital provided her a safe, supportive environment but little else.

On day 2 however, I witnessed when delivery can go so wrongly. This time, this mum-to-be had delivered successfully with the help of forceps (an instrument to help the baby come out when it is struggling) but then suffered the most dreaded of complications of pregnancy: postpartum haemorrhage. I.e. massive bleeding after giving birth. 

It was a terrible sight. The baby was blissfully unaware, healthy and safe in her new father's arms. His face however was in shock. His wife was getting weak from the blood loss and she was briskly wheeled away to theatre, blood and equipment left on the floor of the empty room. I looked to him. We were the only ones left in the room. He burst into tears.

I went back and forth from theatre to his room, checking he was okay. Even today, I cannot imagine what he could have been feeling, his new family on the cusp on disappearing as fast as it had formed. 

I myself was battling away tears. I had never seen an emergency like this, and as the team fought on trying to stop the bleeding and transfusing in blood, I feared she might not make it. 

Fortunately she did. She was in ICU (intensive care unit) for a week, and her husband and new child lived in a side room on a ward whilst they waited for her recovery. Over the days she began to regain the ability to breathe for herself, and then speak. They named their child "Hope".  

This, and a collection of other anecdotes, made me quite certain I didn't feel the highs and lows of O&G could be for me.

In April I moved into a new place: the 13th floor of a halls of residence. I'd never lived anywhere so high up before, not even in a hotel from what I recall. The view from the window is lovely but the perpetual quietness was something I had to get used to. It was a new way of living for me. My flatmates are very nice, but we don't live as a "household" in the way my old housemates and I used to. Having no unit to come home to is what I miss, however the flip side was it was the perfect place to study and develop a newfound independence. 

The view from my room on a particularly spectacular evening in November

In May, I was sent to a hospital placement outside of London. An excuse to finally use the driving skills I apparently had but rarely used! I drove on a motorway for the first time and got used to a daily commute. I realised I actually quite enjoyed the long drives, which I now often do voluntarily - it's an opportunity to blast out music and sing and feel only slightly silly! :P

In June, the dreaded 5th year exams came like a storm, causing havoc to us all. And then leaving us to deal with the damage. That's what summer holidays are usually for, no?! Except this time, we only had two weeks, not a few months! A sign that soon we would have no "summer holidays" at all...

Our sixth and final year began in July. The start was a blur, most of us still reeling from the unrelentingness of the fifth year. (No sooner had we written our last exam, one of our Professors emailed us explaining when our next exam would take place!)

Hospital placements began again in August. I started with A&E which I loved. I have always enjoyed general medicine, and here I could see it being put in practice, at a fast pace, and sometimes even be a useful part of that process. "I'm Alex, a final year medical student" sounded odd and took some getting used to. "Final year" gives rise to expectations... you should be able to do some things, and you certainly should be able to recall a lot! The pressure was on.

Then in September I had probably my best placement in medical school. 2.5 weeks in the Shetlands! And it was during those weeks, that I realised that I was ready to move on. To leave London, at least for a while. I guess when you've lived in the same place you were born your whole life, you eventually yearn for new pastures! I had never thought I would, and I do still love London, but now feels right.

Unst, the Shetlands (where it's perfectly safe to walk on roads!)

So come October, when it was time to apply for our first jobs, London didn't appear in my top three choices at all. Instead I applied to the SouthWest/Bristol, Scotland and Oxford. Why such varied regions? For me, I didn't like the idea of going somewhere I didn't know at all... that would entail a bit too much risk! So instead, I opted for the regions of the UK I had often been to with my family when we were younger.

So the forms went in. I additionally applied to academic jobs (ones with teaching and research) which meant there was be the possibility of interviews to come. And they did: three back to back. Two so back to back that I travelled to Plymouth and straight up to Edinburgh in the next day! The third and last one took place exactly a week ago.

The wall of the bathroom of the Café where JK Rowling wrote Harry Potter! (Interview trips to Edinburgh can have more than one purpose!!)

Preparing and going for the interviews was like applying to university all over again. Except this time, they were far less nice! Each 20-minute grilling was tough, but a great learning experience. Whatever the outcome, I feel I have made the right choice leaving my hometown. For now anyway!

So now it's back to concentrating on my placements and general revision for those dreaded Finals..! 

But Christmas is before that :P 

I hope you're enjoying the festivities - December is in my opinion, one of the best months of the year. People seem cheery despite the ever-darkening skies, you're allowed to eat a piece of chocolate/biscuit a day, shopping all of a sudden has an acceptable underlying purpose and you can plan all those resolutions you are SO going to stick to the following year! 

Happy Advent!

P.s. If you've made it to here, well done, you must be a good listener! :P