my being

Revision, revision, revision.

It is my life. My very being. Revision is all that I am.

Yesterday I revised pharmacology at my friends flat. We started at 3pm after eating the worlds most enormous (and obviously low fat) cheese omlette. Three chapters (endocrine drugs, diueretics and cardiac drugs), seven cups of tea and a packet of hobnobs later it was 7.15pm! All of a sudden, like. It just snuck up on us.

I think 4 hours is a pretty commendable effort. Even I am impressed at my commitment to the task. However, even I have to draw the line somewhere. Like proper students we sacked it off and went to the pub for wasabi peas (taste better than they sound!)

Today I skanked off my psychology seminar for revision reasons. No way will I sit in a crappy, boring, windowless classroom listening to stuff I’ve heard before when I could be filling my brain full of “special sensory organs”, “Endocrine glands” and the joys of calcium channel blockers and ACE inhibitors.

No way.

I’ve been quite productive really- I’ve managed about 6 hours today. I think my brain may possibly have melted though, which probably isn’t a good thing.

To the pub now, to lose all my newly acquired knowledge no doubt.

Orchestra

I’ve been reminiscing recently about my life that never was- the glamorous life of a musician, Trombone, actually. Last night I was with a few old friends, two of which as musicians in the Army. One of them was telling us a hilarious story about the time he met Princes William and Harry at Hedley Court and it suddenly reminded me of an experience I had when playing in the college symphony orchestra a couple of years ago (it was one of the highlights of the whole academic year-and the one, and only time I ever got to be on the personnel list for symphony orchestra).

We were playing the Firebird Suite, by Stravinsky- I love it. It is probably one of my favourites. Consequently, I was terribly excited about it all, until I saw the part. There was just one bit, one tiny bit in the whole damn peice that was exposed and no matter how hard I practiced it I could not get it right!

Rehearsal after rehearsal I tried and I struggled, I struggled at home in the evenings, and I even took it to one of my lessons and struggled with it there. It just was not happening for me. As the concert drew ever closer, I started to panic a bit. The symphony orchestra is one of the most professional ensembles at my music school, and I was about to fuck it up. Jesus- what a retard!

The day of the concert dawned, and we had an afternoon rehearsal, with a very prolific conductor. Also present at the rehearsal was the principal, head of performance studies, head of postgraduate studies, and head of department for wind, brass and percussion. No pressure then.

In a moment of panic, I whispered to the third trombone player that I would pay him £10 and a minimum of two pints if he would play that small section for me. He agreed, on the grounds that if he did it, I would not even begin to attempt it or we would end up having a stopping and starting fiasco where both of us thought the other was going to do it, making us both look stupid. Done!

The section approached, and the third trombone player masterfully tackled it. Not a note out of place. At the end of the section, the conductor brings us to an unceremonious halt and looks confused.

He looked directly at me, “I heard it, and it was very lovely…but it wasn’t you, Stand up please.”

Fuck!

“No, erm…no. It wasn’t me, it was the third trombone”. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!

“Right, well- I hope you are paying him”, he barked.

“Yes. Yes I am. £10 and 2 pints.”

“Marvellous, very honest. Sit down”.

Phew!

Personally, I think it should have been viewed as a selfless act. I sacrificed my own integrity as a musician for the good of the show. After all, I could show up the school could I? Obviously, it was nothing to do with not wanting to embarrass myself on stage.

Later on after the concert (which was a fantastic success!) the conductor approached me and said, “Faith, whenever I conduct the Firebird Suite from now on, I’m always going to think of you”.

Awww! Nice to know I’ve made an impression on someone, even if not for quite the right reasons!

mutant

Yet again, I’m just “meh”. A non mood, a nothing. I don’t feel anything, at least I don’t think I do. I laugh at jokes and I’m sad at the photos on the front page of the metro yesterday showing the floating bodies of the poor Burmese after the cyclone- but it doesn’t seem right. (Warning- graphic photo).

for the want of a glass of water…

I’m sorry- but this post is going to be a bit of a rant.

Firstly, in a lecture on anatomy and physiology, is it really necessary for the lecturer to talk about her personal life? I swear to god I’ve heard her entire life/medical story today- and to honest…give a shit?

Secondly, when the hell did bottled water get so fucking expensive? I’ve had a proper mission to get water today and its just annoying. I was gasping- so at college I went over the counter and asked for a bottle and they said they didn’t have any, so I asked for a cup of tap water. They refused that’s right, refused to let me have any. They wanted me to go to the drinking fountain instead. That’s fine, but I can’t take the fountain into my lecture with no matter how much I would love to do that. I asked them for a cup, please. They tried to charge me 10p for a paper cup? What the fuck? Then later at the Big London Station I decided to buy a bottle as by now I was gasping having only had a small suck (cheeky!) out of the fountain all day. The kiosk informed me they only had large bottle (75cl) and that they were:

£1.85

Holy mother of jesus! That’s just criminal, and I don’t even have £1.85. I only had £1.63- and again, they refused to give me tap water- which can’t be allowed surely?

Anyway, I remained pissed off about this all day until I arrived at the place I donate blood (in the evening) where thankfully, the fluids were free flowing (and free). You’ll all be pleased to know, that I donated my blood in a record 7 minutes and 17 seconds. Usually mine takes up to 15 minutes- so a victory If I do say so myself.

I thank you.

motivation

I’m finding it very hard to get motivated these last couple of days. Well, indeed the last forever I suppose. This blog seems to have taken a bit of a downward spiral mood wise hasn’t it? Sorry guys- I’ll try and post the odd more upbeat post whenever I can.

In some slightly bizarre news I had a really interesting psychology seminar today. I even had useful and constructive input into it- can you believe it? This time last week I’d had a right old strop (yeah, typical me) about how utterly shite it was. I’ve completely changed my tune. It may have been down the the truly inspiring lecturer we had today- its a shame it was only because our usual one was off sick.

I also had a dental appointment today- and anyone who has been reading this blog for a period of time will know that dentists are really not my favourite people. Ever since the wisdom tooth extraction fiasco I’ve had a mortal fear of dentists. Last time I went to the dentist was January- It was a follow up I was supposed to have after I was late to my previous appointment, and I even phoned to tell them I would be late. They then told me I could wait until after the next patient- this was fine- I was late. But then they made me wait for another hour after the patient had left (and I’m a nervous patient- I’m usually on the verge of tears/panic attack/hyperventilation at this stage). The dental nurse then came out and told me that the money grabbing bastard of a dentist wouldn’t see me after all. What a bitch! I made another appointment and came the following week, finished my treatment and paid. Story over?

Picture by Antony Falbo.

Oh no! I turned up today and they couldn’t find my notes. They searched and searched and finally found them. In the “failure to arrive” drawer. Weird. They also informed me that after my last appointment, which I was most definitely attended the dentist had added a £30 cancellation fee! Which was MORE than the fecking appointment cost in the first place!

I also discovered today, that my old dentist was charging me for treatment that was not needed- she was doing it over two appointments under the guise of “the anxious patient” thing. The dentist I had today was brilliant- totally put me at ease, discussed my pharmacology revision with me and my A+P as well as the fundamentals of oral assessment. Fantastic! As a consequence my simple check up, clean and polish took about 5/10 minutes and the job was done. No follow up appointments needed next week, no “I’m sorry, we can’t do the second appointment on the NHS” speech. Job done. And all for the princely, (well, quite reasonable really!) sum, of about £16. I’m happy with that.

I’m so proud of myself- no crying, no shaking and the nurse didn’t even need to hold my hand (oh yes, that has happened many a time- and I’m usually only having a simple clean and polish done!)

A moral victory, if I do say so myself.

Things that go “bump” in the night

At some point in the the middle of the night, I must have bumped my head really  bloody hard.

I have a ridiculous lump right on my left temple, an aching eye on that side and an evil throbbing headache. How I did it, I’m not really sure. But I can only assume that while thrashing in my sleep I’ve left over and cracked myself against the corner of my bedside drawers.

I always knew they were out to get me.

Drunk in charge

So it’s this ridiculous charity event today- yet another fecking cancer research one. Why not an obscure and under funded little known one, or something? Anyway, this is the weekend of the year in which my mum never fails to come home in a complete and utter state. She is already half way there.

It involves getting dressed up in a stupid costume and going on a pub crawl, basically. Brilliant eh? An EXCUSE to get shit faced “it’s for charity”. It’s not for charity- it’s for the local pubs to line their pockets!

The day started off with me practically having to force my mum to eat breakfast. I know full well she would have eaten nothinghad I not done that- meaning she would have been even more drunk than she is now. She even argued with me over eating “all of it”. She is like a fecking child.

In a fit of rage earlier today, I broke my free step counter I got from the RCN Congress (by stamping on it), threw my phone against the wall, and smashed a plate- partly because I’ve lost my camera, and partly because had I had my camera I would have to take pictures of my mother becoming increasingly drunk and embarrassing. I ended up buying a new phone instead of watching the stupid pub crawl (which set me back £70) and then met them in the pub (where else!?) when they’d finished.

My old phone still works- albeit being a bit smashed up, so out of the kindness of my heart I gave it to mum- who was excited. I explained to her about changing her numbers over, did it and the job was done. She then proceeded to ask me every 10-30 minutes or so to give her her old phone back- because all her numbers were on it. Now, how many times does a “normal” person really need to be told that their numbers are no longer on their old phone but on their new one? Even a tipsy person can get that. Oh no, not her. She is like a child. A really stupid one at that.

In the end I got so hacked off with it that I threw my drink at her and stormed off. I’m not her mother, I shouldn’t have to be like this with her. It’s not right. It’s annoying. I don’t CARE if alcoholism is a disease- she should be able to stop this. If I can stop smoking she can stop drinking. Surely its not that hard.

When she comes home later she will be in the type of state where I have to watch her incase she trips and falls down the stairs- she always is after this. Her “friends” think its really funny and that she is “wild”. She isn’t “wild”- she is a complete joke.

This is why I have such a hard time looking after alcoholics at work. This is why.

the week in bits

…

a mixture

I’m so tired. I’ve been having trouble sleeping this week- so much so that I considered “borrowing” something from the drug cupboard at work; some temazepam or something similar. I’ve been rocky- angry, irritable etc. Small things make me lose my temper. For example, the lecture I had on loss and grief this week annoyed me so much that afterwards I spent half an hour telling the lecturer how terrible it was and what a massive waste of time the whole module was, in fact.

When asked mid lecture if any of us has “lost” anything recently, I matter of factly answered that yes, I had lost something. Interest.

I have discovered that I am a much nicer person when I have been drinking- the coach journey home from Congress yesterday was interesting to say the least. A wonderful time was had by all. Obviously the bottle of white wine helped no end. I also have enough pens and free samples of diprobase to last me at least a year- a day well spent.

Despite what I said about lack of sleep at the beginning of this post, I now seem to be having the opposite problem- I am sleeping all the damn time. On the train, in lectures, watching TV. Never mind, I suppose you can’t have it all can you?

RCN Congress 2008

I’m off to Congress tomorrow morning!

Obviously, this is a first time for me. Any other nursey bloggers going to be there? If so, leave me a comment or an email today/early tomorrow morning and let me know and we can meet up!

Faith.