Catch The Rainbow

Yes it probably was a gloomy start to the day, but it couldn’t have started off in a better way 🙂 

Did I get any strange looks from people in the parking lot? Maybe :p

But I didn’t really care…I get to keep this moment and better yet, share it with you!

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The Growing Up Stage

I feel like a lot of things have happened these past few weeks. But at the same time not that much, isn’t it a little weird?

Work is getting busy. I’m now seeing more patients a day (about 20, which is a lot for me!) and I really felt the pressure this week when my time per patient was cut down. Because of the increasing number of people I’m seeing, I’m definitely learning more things. I just hope that I’ll get used to the time management side of things.

Sometimes I get little highs of actually seeing a difference in people I’ve been following up, such as a woman who is on the way to losing weight (using a technique I learnt called ‘motivational interviewing’), or someone who is recovering from post natal depression. I now find myself seeing individual members of families for different ailments, like a family doctor. I try to maintain that ‘holistic approach’ we get taught about in our training by building real relationships with patients over time. It’s nice to know that they like to see me, or at least that’s how I’m looking at it!

However because of the higher numbers I am seeing at work, it also means that I get my fair share of patients who aren’t quite as appreciative of our services, simply because they don’t know how overstretched we are as a country. Traditionally general practice was provided by small practices, run by just one or maybe two doctors looking after their local community. This model of care survived over 100 years, but is now being radically changed. Primary care has existed in the UK since 1911, and is right now going through a massive transition due to funding cuts by the government, the increased work load being transferred from secondary care to primary care, and the pressures of having to deal with (some unrealistic) patients’ expectations. All in all this is making me feel very exhausted, and I feel this most towards the end of the day.

Though nothing is set in stone, I can’t help but wonder if I should move abroad. I know some others who have done the same and they are much happier now. They get treated with a form of respect from authorities and patients alike, which we don’t always get here. For all the years we spend studying medicine, (6 years at university and 5 years training in total to become a general practitioner), is it all worth it if we’re not content? The other option is to go FastLane. I just wonder.

On another note I turn 30 in November and though I am reminded that I still have at least a couple of weeks in my 20s, I couldn’t help but feel strange about it all. On looking back on the decades maybe things are slowly getting better, but at the same time there’s a lot more I still want to do and I fear I’m not reaching the milestones I want to achieve. Don’t worry I won’t be listing them all here, that’s for another time. In the meantime I will be tucking into a chocolate cookie dough dessert, that’s what grown ups do.

Uganda Healthcare Expedition Part V

I’ve been spending this weekend back home in London. Unfortunately, it didn’t start off quite so smoothly…

I developed a bout of conjunctivitis towards the end of the week, and was slowly recovering from that. It was also on the Friday when I headed to London, that I heard about the terrorist incident at Parsons Green earlier that morning. People were naturally more cautious about their travels and that included me. What made things more difficult, was telling my family that I was going to the Uganda-UK convention in central London the next day. They were NOT happy.

While I was brainstorming on the train, and trying to think of what I would like to achieve from the convention, I received a certain-toned phone call from the family, asking about the sort of convention I was attending.

Then that classic saying came along:

“We’ll talk about this when you get home”.

No, not an unfamiliar saying. But if anything, it probably fired up my drive more so. Listening to some of my favourite movie themes (yes, this includes How To Train Your Dragon), I was even more focused in my planning for the convention!

I tried to think why it is that parents don’t want us to do certain things. Do they think differently from us? Do they feel like they are losing us? Are they worried that we could fail? Maybe all those things. Or maybe, we’re supposed to be “settling”.

I don’t think such a thing as “settling” exists. To settle and accept things as they are, almost means giving up on life. I actually think that’s somewhat disrespectful to life itself. To strive, however and whatever you decide to pursue, means to live life to the fullest. If you choose to be of service to others, why shouldn’t you? Anything which increases your options is a good decision. If you do the same actions, you’ll get that same results. If you do different actions, you’ll have a different life.

So I went.

After an early morning wake up (6.45am on a Saturday morning is early for me!), I got ready and headed out. The convention itself was quite easy to get to, only a few stops on the underground and just a couple on the railway. Once I got there I signed in, was given my pass and waited around…unfortunately for a long time! It turned out that not only I had gotten there ridiculously early (I thought 9am was quite decent!), but they were running very late. The hall where the convention was being held at was divided into two parts. The front consisted of the stage, the tables at the front and the stand alone seats at the back. Behind were all the exhibition stands. The people who attended were spread across the two parts, though the exhibition area was naturally much louder! Before you realise people approach you, and you can’t help but network as well-exchanging contact details and dishing out calling cards (I was probably one of the few who DIDN’T have one, I don’t think your NHS smart card quite qualifies!).

Sneaky photo before the crowds came

Before the rest of the people arrived 

The chairman opened up the convention with a saying I thought was clever, in the context of us being allowed to use our phones to take pictures!

“Life worth living is one worth recording”.

The convention commenced with the singing of the Ugandan National Anthem. This was soon followed by various speeches given by many distinguished invited guests-such as the Ugandan High commissioner to the UK, and the Vice President of Uganda, Edward Ssekandi.

Vice President of Uganda Edward Ssekandi giving his speech 

One of the presentations which interested me more so, was delivered to us by Dr Ian Clarke-a physician, philanthropist, entrepreneur and the chairman of the International Medical Group. I found his work inspiring, particularly how he used agriculture from his roots to keep his medical work sustainable. I adored his motto:

“Sustainable Development with Social Impact”

I was very fortunate to have a face to face meeting with him, which was just as well as I missed a part of his presentation (because it was during his presentation that we had to register to meet with a specific speaker…funny that!).

The meeting itself was a delight! I had my notebook with my questions written and my pen at the ready, to write haste his answers and advice. However I soon as I sat down, I didn’t even look at my notebook properly. It didn’t seem all that appropriate. I asked just one question, and the rest of the time we just chatted away, completely informal and relaxed. He was taken aback that I was a doctor, as I think he thought like many others, I was seeking for an investment! It was almost like we were uni friends, getting to know each other and comparing notes about medicine and life. I felt absolutely honoured that we spent the length of time we had talking. To me he was like a celebrity, and it was probably my highlight of the convention!

After leaving the meeting room, I walked through a very crowded hallway where out of nowhere, a calling card flung across, hit my face by accident and landed on the floor. I picked it up and didn’t think much of it when a gentleman said:

“I’m really sorry, did that hit your eye?!”

“No no it didn’t, not to worry”

“Oh then you can have it!”

Suddenly there was a loud uproar of laughter and I couldn’t help but join in. But it wasn’t until I left the hallway, that I realised who the card belonged to-the Ugandan High Commissioner!

After a cup of tea and a croissant for lunch (the queue for lunch was incredibly long and I didn’t have the stomach to wait), I managed to speak with some other people in the crowds, before taking my seat at the table. The lecture after lunch was provided by a Ugandan Physician, which captivated me yet again. She first talked about the Diaspora in Uganda. Ignorant as I am at things, I had to look this up. She then spoke about how the healthcare system there is “corrupt and broken down”, and that a lot of work still needed doing. This was followed with a story, one which almost brought me to tears…

A senior physician at her hospital became unwell and needed a ventilator. Unfortunately the ventilator broke down and he was deteriorating. “Hospital X” where he was staying would not let him go to “Hospital Y” to receive treatment via their working ventilator, until he and his family paid the fees. This was in the hundred thousand region and despite appealing to the administration, they would not let him go. “The fees were coming in but his health was getting worse”.

Once the payment was made to Hospital X, Hospital Y refused to take him in. This was because he now needed to pay for the ambulance, and this was even more expensive (in the millions region). SOMEHOW they managed to get this payment sorted and thankfully, he was transferred across. Maybe it was the way she told us this story (which is far better than how I am saying it here), but this sorry horrified me and I was heartbroken.

After a couple more speeches I decided to call it a day. I had taken more than enough knowledge and insight than I could have hoped for and decided to head back, to spend the rest of the day with the family.

My trinkets from the day 🙂 You could only speak with the guest speakers if you applied for a VIP pass-so worth it! 

Attending this convention only reinforced what I want to do with my life. There are many messages which I took home with me, but one of my favourites still is this one, which was mentioned by the Ugandan physician. It couldn’t be put more simply:

“It was just something different and that’s what I chose to do”

Song of the Month

Here’s my song of the month! I know I haven’t posted my favourites for the past couple of months…but I still hope I can make up for it, by sharing with you the latest song I’m finding pretty epic right now.

I’ve become a new fan of ‘Two Steps From Hell’, their songs are all I listen to now…I wish you all a seriously EPIC life

Much Ado About Somethings

Why is blogging good for you? Here are some reasons I found:

  • It reduces stress and blood pressure
  • It improves the immune system (don’t ask me how!), mood and memory

There are few things that I’ve been meaning to write about. They’ve sort of accumulated over the last couple of weeks, but I’ll try my best not to ramble on too much!

I’m starting to look closer at what I eat. I couldn’t help but notice what I found displayed at my new practice. It’s advice advocated by the Food and Agriculture Organisation of the United Nations (The FAO), but I don’t really know what I make of it.

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I agree with some of the portion sizes displayed. But why is the yellow carbohydrate section so big? Shouldn’t the red protein section be a stand out portion too, even more than the carbs? That’s what athletes focus on. I know with most published guidelines you have to tailor them to the individual. As everybody is different, it’s interpretation will also vary. This would be mine.

I showed this above diagram to my boyfriend. He then gave me the idea of creating a list of foods that I could focus my meals on. But the difference is that this list must include food that I actually enjoy eating, not food I should enjoy eating.

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My makeshift list of favourite foods I love to eat. You’ll notice that fish is the only meat I have written. That’s because I’m a pescatarian. 

I then tried to think how I could incorporate some of these items into an ideal lunch. One that I can take to work that is filling, and will last until dinner time.

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Oats, chocolate protein powder, milk, yoghurt and banana slices. I later added variations such as honey over the bananas. DELISH!

My food musings was the first thing I wanted to talk about. The second thing was work.

I’ve started running my own surgeries, which include the standard morning and afternoon sessions. I’ve done similar surgeries before at a different practice, but for some reason how I look at it all is changing. I think it maybe because of the experience I am accumulating over time, including the increasing number of patients I see. The partners have even got me running the 6-8 week baby check clinics. I do enjoy this added responsibility, because it adds a bit of variety to the day. I think my maturity is also boosted by the added bonus that I can now drive! A particular happy moment I recall was at the end of a busy Thursday this week. I had my raincoat on, my doctor’s bag in one hand and my car keys in the other. I felt so grown up, as I said goodbye to the receptionists at the end of the day.

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My first attempt at reverse parking at work, courtesy of my boyfriend-who taught me how to do it

I’ll admit when I first started working here I was naturally nervous. It had been a while since I was in a general practice setting. I was however, taught another invaluable lesson by my boyfriend…accept that you won’t know everything. It was only once I accepted that, that I found myself letting go of my insecurities. I went with the flow of the surgery and whilst I sought appropriate advice, it went much smoother. Maybe that also applies to life-it can turn out smoother when you learn to let things go.


I thought I’d end this post by uploading a simple photo of how we’re spending our bank holiday weekend…by good eats! Yay! Have a good weekend :))

 

Tap Your Heels Together Three Times

I spent this weekend by undergoing a massive clear up of almost all of my possessions. I sieved through my documents, all sorts of books, shelves, clothes and shoes. Hard to believe it took me almost the whole of Saturday and half of Sunday to do it. However, I knew it was one of those things that I had to force myself to do, for it would never get done otherwise! As I’ll be going back home again soon, I tried to take that as a good opportunity to bring back some clothes, and other stuff I don’t use anymore.

I found it remarkable how simply going through your things can bring back such vivid memories. For example, I brought here with me my twenty-something year old figurines, all intact. I took them to university to remind me of home and to brighten up my room. But for some reason since coming here, I kept them all in a box. This was the weekend I finally took them out to display again.

I kept a lot of my medical books , as I know I will refer to these from time to time. They have university written all over them, including the ups and downs. This was the literature we had to study just to keep our places.

Whilst going through my pyjamas, (I wasn’t kidding when I said I went through everything), I came across a PJ top which I wore almost all the time at uni. It was a blue one with white clouds, all in one piece, yet I stopped wearing it. I tried to think why so, and then I realised it was because the trouser bottoms became unwearable. The elasticity had gone, it’s time had run out. I looked at this top and really debated whether I should keep it with me, or take it back home. I distinctly remembered one of the times when I first met this guy at university, I happened to be wearing this pyjama top. I went over to his room and asked him to leave me alone, because I was getting these prank calls from him at midnight, claiming to be Arnold Schwarzenegger. Now he’s my boyfriend.

Today was the day I started seeing patients on my own at a surgery. Probably more nervous than excited, I thought that one thing I can try and get right is how I dress. Last week I was wearing what I call my ‘granny cardigan’. It made me look old and small. How convenient it was that I went through all my clothes just a couple of days ago! (Maybe on a subconscious level, it was another reason I wanted to review my clothes).

I came across smart-looking items encompassing blouses and skirts and the such, some I hadn’t worn in a long time, some surprisingly still fitting me and some I’d never seen before! I made the effort and I do think it showed. My colleagues took notice that I looked a little different and I think I was treated as such. Maybe this is the world we live in. I even got complimented by a patient who liked my ‘ruby red shoes’. I assure you they’re not quite as glamorous as in The Wizard of Oz, but hey it paid off.

Why on earth am I rambling on about things, possessions? Does it really matter? Well I think that depends on how you look at it. Sometimes they prove to be more than useful, given the right circumstances (such as my example of work above). However, there are times when I don’t just look at my things as mere objects but as collections, specific to memories from my past. You grow yet they’ll always be the same. They always remind you of where you came from and will always bring you back to a certain point in time. What makes them special? Well like anything I suppose, they always have a story behind them.

The Story of the Funky Pigeon

Apparently today is my one year anniversary of blogging…yay!

I therefore thought it would be nice to share with you a story which my mother told me a few days ago. I call it, the story of the funky pigeon.

It was on a Friday when my mother was getting ready to head out to work. She was already running a little bit late, so her natural priority was to leave on time. Whilst making her breakfast, she looked through the kitchen window and noticed that a pigeon had entered the bird house. The problem was that my dad had built it so pigeons couldn’t get in. How it did was anyone’s guess.

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The bird house in the back garden, taken in the recent few days I was back home

My mum thought that the pigeon might leave the bird house on it’s own, and so left it alone. She carried on getting ready when she looked out of the window upstairs, and saw that it was still there. She now started to worry a little, it was almost time for her to leave! She came out into the garden and used a milk carton (don’t ask me why) to try and shoo the pigeon off. Unfortunately it didn’t budge. She thought that might still be hungry, and decided to let it be for a further five minutes, before trying to take the pigeon out of the bird house herself.

Five minutes later my mum came out to the garden where to her horror, she found scattered feathers on the floor. The pigeon was wounded and a black and white cat was circulating the bird house. It was obvious that it wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.

Now my mother panicked. She shooed off the cat, but realised that if she left home with the pigeon inside the bird house, the cat would surely come back for it, for it knew that the pigeon had nowhere to go. It was trapped and injured. So what did my mum do? What any loving mother would do, she took the pigeon into our home.

The problem however was that it was injured and it needed medical attention. Not knowing how to rescue the pigeon safely from the bird house without injuring it further, she did the next best thing…she brought the whole bird house inside our house.

My mum rang the RSPCA and after explaining what had happened, she was informed that it maybe a couple of hours until somebody would come to take the injured pigeon. Now that she was definitely running late for work, she had to get reinforcements. Who better to be available than my dad, who was almost finishing his early shift! She rang him and after he managed to calm her down, she headed off to work. It was not long until my dad came home and awaited for the RSPCA team. Once they arrived they took the pigeon from the bird house safely and transferred it to their facility, to receive the appropriate treatment.

When my mum told me of this story down the phone, I literally couldn’t believe my ears. I imagined that it was something you could base a mini movie on, and had it running in my head! The fact that my mum carried that tall bird house through the back entrance of the house, with a fluttering pigeon inside shocks me even now. It was a simple yet sweet story about caring for another creature and doing what you can to save it. Yes it was a story of my mother and a pigeon she saved. But it is also a story I would be proud to tell my children.