"..and holy Toledo! Here come all the Raiders!"
I'm currently slightly addicted to 'America's Game', the American show detailing the 45 SuperBowl winners as well as 5 teams that didn't win the championship over an hour long television show. It's all available on YouTube. What I like the most is the score, as well as the insights into the "old" pre-nineties teams that didn't have the vast media and technology explosion that dominates the game these days.
And in those teams there are.. the Oakland/LA Raiders.
A team which although it won 3 SuperBowls in 8 seasons had more characters than an average Shakespeare play (or your average wing of a Californian prison).
It is a team that I like because I can relate to their "waifs and strays" policy on players that didn't quite fit with other teams. It is a policy that is still in force these days (along with psycho fans and a pride in leading the league in penalties), the idea that if you were a player that was a little "odd", who didn't really fit in with Houston or Pittsburgh or New England then you went to Raiders and as long as you could play the rest of the 'character assessment' was ignored. The Raiders let you BE YOU.
This is how I feel about Southmead, the place where I now work after being forcefully transferred from Frenchay trauma after 4 years of service. 95% of it stellar.
My nickname for the hospital (currently being phased out as its successor is built right next door to it) is The Coliseum, the same name as the current Raider stadium. It smells like a 1970's hospital, green is the colour of the floors and that old vinyl smell - the mix of hospital food and heavy disinfectant - lingers everywhere. Even in the new additions to the original structure that have been added on like false limbs over the past 15 years. The heating system is fried, you can't turn the radiators off because there's no guarantee they'll restart. The old intercom has long since died. We got new chairs in the staff room (the bottoms finally wore through on the old ones) but the whole place has a nice "bygone days" feeling to it. Which makes it a perfect fit for the menagerie of staff who reside in its rooms.
And this is in Main theatre, I work in urology across the hall. Newer but still with at least 2 entrances and exits from the main theatre department. Great for when you feel like being sneaky.
At least 2 other members of staff are "castoffs" from Frenchay. People for whatever reason were moved sideways like myself across site. As the NHS can't openly fire us lest it get arse-reamed by both the Unions and employment tribunals it will keep its staff (even its most wayward ones) in jobs until they leave of their own accord. However long that takes. It will take something VERY serious (like randomly stabbing colleagues or patients) to get yourself fired on the spot.
So here I am in Southmead.
And I FUCKING LOVE IT.
The only thing I don't love is the parking fiasco but seeing that my new apartment is on the boundary of the hospital and come the summer I should be walking to work it is a small gripe I can put up with in the interim.
But the surgeons are ok with me, even the consultants who are scary but are honest and appreciative of good work. The Sisters (both Main and Urology) are friendly and understanding to anyone who is willing to graft and not take stupidly long piss-taking breaks in the coffee room. I enjoy working, they want an extra body to work. What's not to love?
The surgery is interesting so far. I don't enjoy wearing the heavy lead aprons for long periods of time as it hurts my shoulder but that aside getting to play with scopes and lasers and work with the surgeon pulling stones out of kidneys is really cool.
And anyone who knows about my personal life here in Southmead doesn't blag it to anyone else. I think some surgeons have twigged but they're respectful. And the main crew know but seeing that there is a surprisingly high number of LGBT staff in the theatres it isn't surprising that the tolerance level is higher than Frenchay. As one of my friends said there "We're all mental, but for the most part they let us be us. Long as we work. And that's what we're here for".
Now I have 2 weeks off on the final stint of my Annual Leave before the end of the month (and financial year). I might go to Aber, seeing if I can afford either the train fare or the gasoline. It's a coin-toss considering the price of rail fares and petrol. Or I might just catch up on my writing and enjoy the ability to sleep. Because that's the other problem with this new job. It's fucking knackering. I was in bed on Friday night by nine and Saturday night by ten. Wow.. party animal here then clearly.
But it's just really tiring having to commute and do long hours and constantly think when you're adapting to a new routine that you previously took for granted for so long.
So overall I'm glad i moved. I look people in the eye more in Southmead, rather than looking at the floor or being nervous around the hierarchy. The same people who were cruel to me on occasion over the time I was in trauma. I made a mistake yesterday when I went to Frenchay looking for my paycheck. I bumped into some of the aforementioned people. All those old feelings came rushing back. It actually was a similar feeling to highschool, and I am afraid i might have to adopt the same approach I do with the old hospital that I do with there. Quarantine. Don't go there unless you absolutely have to.
But until I have to I'm happy to bounce to work in a crumbly hospital that's on its way out and is still one big building site.
Or as Al Davis - the octogenarian owner of the Raiders - would say:
"Just Win Baby".
And in those teams there are.. the Oakland/LA Raiders.
A team which although it won 3 SuperBowls in 8 seasons had more characters than an average Shakespeare play (or your average wing of a Californian prison).
It is a team that I like because I can relate to their "waifs and strays" policy on players that didn't quite fit with other teams. It is a policy that is still in force these days (along with psycho fans and a pride in leading the league in penalties), the idea that if you were a player that was a little "odd", who didn't really fit in with Houston or Pittsburgh or New England then you went to Raiders and as long as you could play the rest of the 'character assessment' was ignored. The Raiders let you BE YOU.
This is how I feel about Southmead, the place where I now work after being forcefully transferred from Frenchay trauma after 4 years of service. 95% of it stellar.
My nickname for the hospital (currently being phased out as its successor is built right next door to it) is The Coliseum, the same name as the current Raider stadium. It smells like a 1970's hospital, green is the colour of the floors and that old vinyl smell - the mix of hospital food and heavy disinfectant - lingers everywhere. Even in the new additions to the original structure that have been added on like false limbs over the past 15 years. The heating system is fried, you can't turn the radiators off because there's no guarantee they'll restart. The old intercom has long since died. We got new chairs in the staff room (the bottoms finally wore through on the old ones) but the whole place has a nice "bygone days" feeling to it. Which makes it a perfect fit for the menagerie of staff who reside in its rooms.
And this is in Main theatre, I work in urology across the hall. Newer but still with at least 2 entrances and exits from the main theatre department. Great for when you feel like being sneaky.
At least 2 other members of staff are "castoffs" from Frenchay. People for whatever reason were moved sideways like myself across site. As the NHS can't openly fire us lest it get arse-reamed by both the Unions and employment tribunals it will keep its staff (even its most wayward ones) in jobs until they leave of their own accord. However long that takes. It will take something VERY serious (like randomly stabbing colleagues or patients) to get yourself fired on the spot.
So here I am in Southmead.
And I FUCKING LOVE IT.
The only thing I don't love is the parking fiasco but seeing that my new apartment is on the boundary of the hospital and come the summer I should be walking to work it is a small gripe I can put up with in the interim.
But the surgeons are ok with me, even the consultants who are scary but are honest and appreciative of good work. The Sisters (both Main and Urology) are friendly and understanding to anyone who is willing to graft and not take stupidly long piss-taking breaks in the coffee room. I enjoy working, they want an extra body to work. What's not to love?
The surgery is interesting so far. I don't enjoy wearing the heavy lead aprons for long periods of time as it hurts my shoulder but that aside getting to play with scopes and lasers and work with the surgeon pulling stones out of kidneys is really cool.
And anyone who knows about my personal life here in Southmead doesn't blag it to anyone else. I think some surgeons have twigged but they're respectful. And the main crew know but seeing that there is a surprisingly high number of LGBT staff in the theatres it isn't surprising that the tolerance level is higher than Frenchay. As one of my friends said there "We're all mental, but for the most part they let us be us. Long as we work. And that's what we're here for".
Now I have 2 weeks off on the final stint of my Annual Leave before the end of the month (and financial year). I might go to Aber, seeing if I can afford either the train fare or the gasoline. It's a coin-toss considering the price of rail fares and petrol. Or I might just catch up on my writing and enjoy the ability to sleep. Because that's the other problem with this new job. It's fucking knackering. I was in bed on Friday night by nine and Saturday night by ten. Wow.. party animal here then clearly.
But it's just really tiring having to commute and do long hours and constantly think when you're adapting to a new routine that you previously took for granted for so long.
So overall I'm glad i moved. I look people in the eye more in Southmead, rather than looking at the floor or being nervous around the hierarchy. The same people who were cruel to me on occasion over the time I was in trauma. I made a mistake yesterday when I went to Frenchay looking for my paycheck. I bumped into some of the aforementioned people. All those old feelings came rushing back. It actually was a similar feeling to highschool, and I am afraid i might have to adopt the same approach I do with the old hospital that I do with there. Quarantine. Don't go there unless you absolutely have to.
But until I have to I'm happy to bounce to work in a crumbly hospital that's on its way out and is still one big building site.
Or as Al Davis - the octogenarian owner of the Raiders - would say:
"Just Win Baby".