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.

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.

Sweet Child O’ Mine

Over the past year or so, I’ve had my fair share of conversations with taxi drivers. The majority of them tend to start off in the same way…

‘You off to work?’

‘Yeah’.

‘Oh what do you do?’

‘I’m a doctor’.

Yes, at times it can get boring. It’s the same responses and especially when I’m tired, I prefer to keep my answers brief and read a book instead. However over the past couple of weeks, there have been two chat encounters which I wanted to reflect on, both of which have a recurring theme-the drivers were parents, and they wanted their children to be doctors.

The first conversation involved an driver, who told me that his son had graduated from medical school one year ago, and is now working as a doctor. I congratulated him.

‘So you must be very proud of him. How is he finding it so far?’ I asked.

‘Oh he doesn’t like it, he hates being a doctor’.

It turns out that the driver has always dreamed of his son becoming a doctor, so he saved up to put him through medical school. He paid for his accommodation, travel expenses, petrol, everything. His son, however never wanted to become one. He wanted to study economics. And now he hates his dad for his new found career. I was curious and asked the driver what he would like his son to specialise in…

‘Surgery, I want him to be a surgeon’.

The second conversation involved a driver, who inquired about what type of high school I went to, where I studied medicine and what I specialise in. He then went on to speak about his 3 year old daughter. He explained that he wants her to be a doctor, and has made several attempts to get her interested in science.

‘She can tell you all the planets. We also bought her one of those books about the human body…oh what’s it called?’

‘Anatomy?’ I replied

‘Yes, an anatomy book!’.

I then started to think about how I got into medicine. Did my parents want me to become a doctor? Deep down yes. I think the difference though, was that they didn’t pressure me into becoming one. They didn’t force me to attend medical school, nor did they thrust anatomy books upon me as a 3 year old.

I don’t think I had any real external influences to become a doctor. We don’t have any in my family apart from my grandfather, who passed away long before I was born. But a part of me always knew I wanted to be one, and I couldn’t see myself becoming anything else. I think in the end it comes down to the individual, and there is no point in resenting others for a choice they made. If your parents really want you to become something which you don’t believe is you, why would you go down that path? After all it’s your life you’re living, not somebody else’s.

Uganda Healthcare Expedition Part III & Other Musings

It feels like the last couple of weeks have been a little ‘strange’ to me, since coming back to Leeds. There have been days where I was so driven to do things, but there have also been days where I haven’t been quite as motivated. For a while, it felt like time was going so slowly and I was feeling rather blah about things…and it’s only been two weeks!

The first weekend I spent since coming back to Leeds may have been a productive one. This is despite having many movies running on at home, probably too many to count. I was able to sit down and literally brain storm ideas on the whiteboard, for the cervical cancer screening programme I am organising in Bwindi-the objectives, statistics, equipment, screening and treatment options, current infrastructure, collaborators, funding organisations, questions to the hospital, the list is endless.

Despite taking a solid weekend, it felt like for the first time, I was able to create a vision in my head of what the programme should encompass. I have already sourced the equipment in Uganda instead of in the UK as I originally planned, and am looking into funding options for these. I have also been in touch with the Royal College of Obstetrics and Gynaecology, Manchester University and important charities who have expertise in this field of medicine. I’ll admit some responses have been slower or less helpful than others, but I do have some direction of focus. If there’s anything that I’ve learnt, it’s that you should keep going until they tell you no.  I’ll give you an example…

In my previous blog post on the expedition, I mentioned that I was in contact with a gynaecology registrar at the hospital. Unfortunately responses from him thinned out, to the point that I directly made contact with the Royal College itself for advice and about a potential staff training course for the healthcare workers. It was useful to know that this is a pilot, in which they require more information from the hospital. At least I knew this now and in my mind, this still wasn’t a no.

The beginning of last week was probably not one of the best ways to start the week off…my uncle passed away.  I received a flood of text messages from my family asking me to ring them back, and this was unusual for them. Though we weren’t very close, I was still upset. He was my uncle, and every time we made trips to Sri Lanka, he was always there.  I took a couple of days off work though weirdly enough, it felt like I wasn’t present most of the week. However we’re managing to carry on. I found it weird how every time my family asked if I was ok, I actually felt worse. I don’t know if that’s normal, maybe I just wanted some space for a bit.

This week almost feels like things are a little bit normal again. I’ve been trying to get on with things-marathon training (which I recommenced today), chasing jobs for the expedition, reading and establishing a routine again. Yes sometimes I like normal. Normal is trying to keep yourself busy and occupied with something, wanting to wake up in the morning to do it. Its important, it helps you get through the not so nice times, and it can help you feel a little less blah about yourself.

Live Your Life

As I head back to Leeds on the train again, I reflect on how I spent the last few days in my home city, London. I use train journeys as a golden opportunity to recollect the good memories we made at home. It’s always something I can come back to.

I hadn’t been at home in just over two months, and hadn’t seen my family since I did my exam. It was nice to actually spend a few days with them, not just a weekend. In addition to getting a hair cut, I took the opportunity to meet my cousins. A couple came over to see us and I met up with a close one in the city.

I always enjoy going to central London, and this trip was no different. I love the fact that it’s literally a 30 minute trip on the Underground to get there. I met my cousin at around 5pm in London Bridge, at a fresh Italian Pasta restaurant called Padella. Despite the early dinner and neither of us being particularly hungry, we somehow managed to consume 3 pasta dishes, a chocolate torte and a bottle of Prosecco between us! I hadn’t seen her since Christmas, so there was a lot of catching up to do.

After having our meal, we walked across the city centre. Starting at Borough Market, we made our way along the River Thames and passed many London landmarks-Shakespeare’s Globe, the Royal National Theatre, London television centre, the London Eye, Sea life London Aquarium, Dungeons and Dragons, skateboarding sites, the list was endless. Streaks of sunlight were seeping through the clouds still, yet nobody was cold. Everybody looked happy and was in a good mood. We said our goodbyes on London Bridge at around 8.30pm and we went home our separate ways. My understanding is that the London terrorist attacks took place two hours later.

The following morning, after waking up to numerous Whatsapp messages to check people were safe, I went to a barbeque my sister was organising for me and my parents. We were joined by one of my old family friends who I hadn’t seen in almost a year, and her American cousin who I briefly met at my sister’s wedding. I won’t lie, I thought I had felt a little awkwardness between us, maybe because I hadn’t seen her in a long time or maybe because they were guests. However I think it settled…my sister showed us wedding videos (some of them I knew I’d seen before) and we chatted again like old times.

After the barbeque, we drove to my friend’s house where she was staying with her parents, whilst she was back in England. Her house always reminded me of happy childhood memories and the days we used to hang out there. Her cousin was a medical student and talked about the medical school system. He also invited me to come to America. Yay! My first American friend! It was even more lovely seeing her parents again. Her father is a retired GP and I had the utmost respect for him. He had a very good work ethic which my mother always talked about when I was younger, and I’d like to think  that he was proud of me. Hilariously he exclaimed, “ahh Chitra, you look like a 10 year old!”, and we had an energetic conversation. We talked about the hospitals I worked in and he was happy that I can do LPs, (lumbar punctures), stating “yes, you’re a doctor”.

I definitely enjoyed my time in London, I always do. I love trying to make time to see old friends and family, because I want to be reminded of my roots when I tend to forget them. This trip back to London will probably stick to me more, because of what happened in London Bridge. Last time I met up with my cousin was around Christmas time last year. We met up later in the evening and I came home later. What if we decided to meet up at a similar time this year? It’s almost terrifying to think that, and I did lay awake that night thinking about what could have happened.

My mum mentioned that I should stop going to central London often (as if I go often!), and brought up many a time, how I encouraged her to take trips there that very evening, before we heard the news. But really, should something like this stop us from carrying on with normal life? According to her, it almost felt like she believed that. Yes maybe I’ll be a little cautious, but I won’t be living in fear. We have a life to live and we should live it.