One more cup o' coffee before I go

As ever, I'm the king of last minute bullshit. I need to b out the door in 10 minutes, and I'm still here. Fuck it. However; minimal searching has revealed many blogs by other Docs in the NHS; which is nice, cos I was beginning to think my North American cousins had the monopoly on it. But no-one seems very happy with their lot, myself clearly included. Am I imagining it / transferring my own crisis? Where are all the happy NHS doctors?

In GP land?

God love us all...

Things that made me smile

No. 1 in an occasional series
--- Many years ago, when Shroom was just a little fungus, he was asked to come review a patient. He had learned that when some nurses asked you to come, you came a'running; so he came apace. "I'm worried about this guy. He's blue"
Blue should also be on the list of colours you're not.

Rounding the corner I was confronted with the patient. Sure enough, he was blue. But he looked well with it. He was not 'so cold I'm blue' blue, or 'so breathless I'm blue' blue. Just blue.

This puzzled me. It was a dreadful night, and the guy was sleeping rough, but he looked so well. To hide my confusion, my eyes scanned the cubicle, finally lighting upon the sad bundle of stuff the patient had abandoned on the floor. It was sopping wet, sitting in a little puddle. A little blue puddle. Picking it up revealed it to be a thick, wet, blue blanket.
"Are you sleeping under this?" Nod, shiver...
Gently, I rubbed his skin; the towel came away blue, the skin beneath gloriously pink. 'Cured, Sister' winks the Shroom; 'needs a new blanket...'


Guilty Pleasures, no. 1
--- I'm secretly delighted every time a Paramedic or Policeman calls me "Doc"

I seem to have a little hope in my heart this morning; I hope this doesn't signal the onset of mania

Wait... there's more

There's no reason; I just like it.

I'm on my way out; it's half past cold and dark, so I'm going to try and find some human companionship; people with whom I can spit at the advance of winter. But a couple of things occurred to me:

1. At home I drink coffee in a mug purloined from my place of work. It has this fact emblazoned upon it, ostensiblt to prevent theft. But it actually egged me on. Where's the sense in that?
2. A pox on medical technology. One of the things that keeps me going, especially through long dark nights of the soul, like this one, is the fact that we occasionally do some good. My most recent 'save' was a tiny baby. The call came through: "Seven day old child, unresponsive". This sort of thing is inherently sphincter tightening. Paeds really tests my comfort zone. Dammit! Who else is on..? Just me... Then they're here - mum in tears, dad confused tearing his air out, baby, quiet, not moving... grey.

I'm never quite sure what goes through the mind at times like this. Grey is not a good colour. It should be on your list of colours you're glad you aren't...

OK; airway's clear, and he's still breathing. God he's awful cool. Little heart is racing... I wonder if - and then the nurse pipes up "BM is off the scale low"! God love nurses, and little babies. His BM! This means his sugar is low. I don't know why, of course, but right now, I don't care. What do I do? I'm a professional, don't you know... I smear my finger with glucose, and I pop it in the little fella's mouth. He suckles himself right back to life. I think we both share a smile. Maybe a tear.

Now I know, he needs labs doing to determine the cause of his low blood sugar, and I know treating him without the labs makes subsequent workup a little bit more difficult, but today, I don't care. He came in grey, and went out pink.

Background Rantings...

And so it begins...





Good evening, good morning... whatever. If you've come this far, come a little further; you might just save my life. Or I might just be another drama queen. I'm not sure yet.



That's me on the left. I'm trying to look cool, and I thought I'd done a good enough job. I'm not so sure anymore. This blog will serve as my anxiety dustbin. It might even be a cathartic experience, but mostly I just want to sound off; vent my spleen as it were. Listen if you will; I guess this way, I don't have to know if you aren't.





Background Check

The Shroom is a 32 year old Brit working in Emergency Medicine - Accident and Emergency as was ( or Casualty,
if you're old enough...)

I studied at a London Medical School, where I had more fun than was seemly.
I'm beginning to think I had more than my due

I've been qualified 8 years now, and find my self adrift in the Emergency Department. I feel like I've been left behind, but I'm not sure how, or by whom... more of that later, I guess

I'm currently trying to give up smoking

I think I'm clinically deperessed

I'm far too fond of three full stops...

Aims and Objectives

In an ideal world, we'd be having this conversation over a beer... but life doesn't always work out like that. I need to vent my feelings here I think, until I can find somewhere else.

This will include details of my life - patients and all. Of course,
confidentiality is important, and I believe the details will be obscured sufficiently to protect the innocent. It's all make believe anyway...

Early Days

Once upon a time, I thought it would be easy. To be honest, it was pretty easy. I'm a lucky shroom. Ma and Pa Shroom are well off, and ourstanding parents. Having seen the raw deal the world deals to some people, I have nothing to complain about. But, as I'm sure you all know, nothing is quite what it seems

That's my grandfather; the Shroom is a thrid generation kniefman, and quite proud of it. But I think it has skewed my ideas. I'm forever stuck with a foot in the past, bemoaning what was; you'll get quite usd to this idea, if you stick with me for a while.
Anyway, here we are. Here I am. It's quite frustrating. The bulk of the hard work should be behind me, but most of the time I'm feeling lousy. I think this is the beginning of an existential crisis. I feel older than I am, and the fact of getting older is upsetting me. Good old traditional mid life crises. Many of my friends and family are moving on, getting married, having kids, settling down. Ma and Pa Shrom are getting older! Clearly this is the way of things, but it suddenly seems to have caught me unawares. I feel very unsettled - which is not unusual for the Shroom. I've been here before, when I went off to Fungal MedSchool. But this just feels like I'm only going to get worse... feel like i'm only going to get more disconnected. Churchill's Black Dog is my constant companion.

I've never wanted a cigarette more than I do now. Strong coffee, tobacco and self pity. Yum!

It is, ultimately, rediculous. But I want to feel better. I think the Shroom needs to put roots down again. Or whatever the hell mushrooms do.

Nuts to it. Thats a beginning. I'll be back, gentle reader, and I'll try to be less self absorbed, and share some tales from the floor; try to pique your interest. Tonight, I must make a dash to Luton, on a mercy mission for a beloved Lemon, and tomorrow lunch with Rage, and tea with Ma and Pa Shroom. Make of it what you will.

Let me know...