It’s been a busy few weeks in the land of the living- so busy, bizarrely, that it feels like I’ve been in the land of the dead. At the moment the shower room I normally use is broken so I’m having to share with the girls who have claimed the main bathroom as their own, and subsequently they will not stop moaning about how I’m “flooding the bathroom, apparently shocked at the fact that one is likely to find water in the bathroom. The other morning I was so dead to the world that I incorrectly selected one of the twenty-six thousand bottles of various body cleansing and shampooing materials that are stored in our bathroom mistaking it for the other- the hazards of living with women I suppose. I won’t go into graphic detail, but suffice to say that “mint fresh” burns more than you’d think when applied to injudiciousnareas of the body…
So sparing you all from my mundane shampoo based horrors I will skip to the slightly more exciting events I have been involved with in the last fortnight or so: first up- Halfway dinner.
Without Halfway Dinner, the fact that we’ve all limped over the halfway mark to becoming fully fledged medical practitioners would probably go without fanfare. But with medicine being medicine, and medics being medics, it is celebrated in the only way we know how: a painfully inebriated three course meal in a conference centre. Rock and roll. I have to say, it was a top night. It was a nice chance to see everyone again after a long summer before we all split up into our respective groups for the hell that is the BSc. One can’t help but feel, however, that this amorous sentiment was helped along somewhat by the unlimited sparkling win reception. Absolute cashback. I can’t remember how friendly I was being on account of said bubbles of joy, but I didn’t make anyone cry which normally means the night has gone pretty well (or badly depending on your point of view- but for now let’s say well). The meal wasn’t too bad- standard generic conference food; that did mean I got to see the fantastic look of panic descend onto the waiting staff faces’ as my girlfriend muttered the
words “dairy allergy” to them. This was, as is usual, followed by screams, tables being upturned in the desperate search for the maitre d’ (or whatever equivalent they had) and the inevitable conclusion of a rather limp looking fruit salad appearing, as this is obviously the only possible starter/desert/main course which is edible by someone with such a grave disability. Other classic highlights of the evening included yours truly achieving literal double-cashback by winning two raffle prizes (admittedly with one of them being a “cut and blow dry” this wasn’t fantastically helpful given my hirsutely challenged head) and a ride in the lift being just too much excitement for one poor soul, who turned it into the Chunder Chamber 2000 deluxe. I suppose we just have to be grateful it didn’t get stuck. The lift that is, not the vomit. I assume they cleaned that up.
So having reduced a perfectly nice evening to tales of vomit and baldness, let us turn our attention to the next event worthy of mention- Fresher’s fayre. Now being a fourth year I haven’t had a huge amount of time in the last few years to go around and collect the monumental amount of free crap that gets dished out- and this year was no exception. I was there promoting St John Ambulance LINKS by sitting in the cab of our ambulance playing the siren at inappropriate moments (including during a police evacuation of the college, whoops) and using the PA system to play the casualty/holby city theme or shout choice phrases at passing freshers such as “Whoop whoop dat’s da sound of da police!” Oh, to have the mind of a ten year old… Some of you who popped by the student blogging stand would have seen me there stealing the sweets and not being fantastically useful (in what was definitely not an attempt to put off those of you thinking of stealing my thunder…) A successful day for us there though, my indiscretions with charity equipment notwithstanding, despite my best efforts…
Speaking of St John, I recently went on an operational duty at the Royal Parks Half Marathon- medicine in the field, gotta love it. I’m
not sure how different it was to the halfway dinner for some people actually, coming home covered in blood and vomit and having been dunked in ice cold water. Hrmmm. Anyway. For my part at the hospital tent- which soon resembled a warzone- involved cooling three people with ice cold blankets at once to stop them overheating (you literally see the steam rising off them as you cool them) and possibly exploding, and holding their flailing, delirious arms as one of the doctors attempted to put a line into their arm. Turns out I’m not that much stronger than a delirious athlete, something I learnt having got a firm dosing of a ice-filled sandwich bag to the knackers and face almost simultaneously. It was all worth it though- only in the sense that I could walk around performing my awesome Arnold Schwarzenegger “I think he needed to cool off” impression.
As you can tell, professionalism is at the heart of everything I do.
So now I’m off to “relax” and read some papers on mouse brain; this will involve sitting on an IKEA chair given to me by my neighbour, which I have reassembled without instructions or appropriate tools. If I never post again, you can safely assume it’s because I’m got an Allen key and an MDF armrest wedged somewhere they really shouldn’t be. May God have mercy on my soul.