Working, Wasting, Whining
Work
On Mon 17th I was supposed to be on annual leave, but I got a call on Sun night asking me to work an early, so I did a day's overtime and had my annual leave shifted to the following day to make time sheets and wotnot easier.
Last week I worked two days, and then on Weds and Thurs had Moving + Handling training days. They were actually really enjoyable, because the trainer was great - the session was really stimulating, and she really knew what she was talking about, having come from a nursing background. Also, unlike the sessions I went on in Feb, rather than just sitting in a large room being lectured, there were only 7 of us, so it was much more involved, and it had a huge practical element. Once she'd got the basics (legal stuff, health statistic, anatomy of the spine etc. etc. etc.) out of the way, the second half of Day 1 and all of Day 2 were spent showing us correct (ie. safe and efficient) techniques for moving patients. And for every single thing she showed us, we ALL had a go at being the patient and the practitioner, so not only did we learn exactly how to carry out the move, but we felt what it was like to be the patient in that position.
But the best thing about all this practical work was that EVERY SINGLE move she showed us, I either use every single shift, or could see how it would be invaluable if I were to implement it into my working habits (whoa, how intelligent did that sound?). So it was a really, really valuable course, and I told the trainer that. Got my official HCA induction days at the end of next month where, having worked on the ward for 5 months, I'll finally be told how to do my job.
Sez's 18th
On Sat night I got a lift with Frankie to the (isolated, impossible to find) hall. There weren't loads of people there, and whilst I knew all of them, only a few were good friends. Plus I was the only non-AHG/AGS person there, which was a bit weird. It was kind of like waking up from a coma and going to a party with people you last saw 2 years ago, and finding it impossible to grasp what they were now like (coz teenagers love to change...) and what they were doing/who they were fucking.
But anyway, it turned out to be a pretty good night, coz I spend most of the beginning with Frankie, and then at about 10, Ruth and Rachel arrived unexpectedly, with Phil in tow. Naturally the rest of the evening was brilliant. And my god, I was so so fucked. By the time I went home I'd had 3 spliffs, a pill and 6 drinks, and was way beyond wasted.
Ruth, Rachel and I sat in a little corner room doing puzzles and reading kids' books. I dared Ruth to come on the church flag, so instead she er, wiped her fingers on it.
Since I took the pill really late, by the time I went home my wastedness had gone from dopey and heavy headed to really fucking alert and twitchy. So I sat still on my bedroom floor for about an hour, alternating between sending a billion texts to Ruth, Phil and Becca, and just staring at stuff on the floor. I sat and sat and sat. Eventually I semi-snapped out of it and reminded myself that it might be a good idea to get into bed since a) I had to get up the next morning and b) the clocks were changing. After a fag which seemed to last forever, I slowly got myself into bed, and slept.
I wish.
I couldn't sleep. I woke up every hour at least, slowly watching it get lighter, feeling annoyingly restless. At 6.30 I was so awake that I got up and emailed Ruth and Steffie before going back to bed. I did manage to get about 1 hour's sleep before I had to get up for good. And after being up for about an hour, the combination of lack of sleep and the volume of chemicals in my system started to kick in.
MFY (Music For Youth)
On Sunday when I got to AMC, I was TIRED. And I got tireder. There were hours of sitting around waiting. My head was constantly drooping, my eyes were drying up and my contacts clouding over, and my legs kept wobbling; I nearly lost my balance several times. And fuck me, my stomach hurt. It was like period pain but higher up, as if it were food poisoning or something. It was so sharp, and I had no idea why it was there and why it wouldn't fuck off and leave me alone. But somehow, I managed to forget all of that and get into into my 'cello zone' when I was actually playing, meaning I could make a half-decent job of it and not fuck it up just coz I was so wrecked.
After the whole thing was over, Sarah came home with us and the two of us sat and watched the remainder of Heroes series 1 (eps 16-23). I kept falling asleep on the sofa - sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes for a couple of minutes. Mum had to wake me up and tell me I was dribbling at one point. Nice.
Anyway, Sarah is now up to speed with things, and both of us feel very complete.
5 days til the wedding, and 6 til we go to Ireland! Yay.
Appendix: Ruth told me a great joke at the party: If mothers celebrate Mother's Day and fathers celebrate Father's day, do wankers celebrate Palm Sunday?
On Mon 17th I was supposed to be on annual leave, but I got a call on Sun night asking me to work an early, so I did a day's overtime and had my annual leave shifted to the following day to make time sheets and wotnot easier.
Last week I worked two days, and then on Weds and Thurs had Moving + Handling training days. They were actually really enjoyable, because the trainer was great - the session was really stimulating, and she really knew what she was talking about, having come from a nursing background. Also, unlike the sessions I went on in Feb, rather than just sitting in a large room being lectured, there were only 7 of us, so it was much more involved, and it had a huge practical element. Once she'd got the basics (legal stuff, health statistic, anatomy of the spine etc. etc. etc.) out of the way, the second half of Day 1 and all of Day 2 were spent showing us correct (ie. safe and efficient) techniques for moving patients. And for every single thing she showed us, we ALL had a go at being the patient and the practitioner, so not only did we learn exactly how to carry out the move, but we felt what it was like to be the patient in that position.
But the best thing about all this practical work was that EVERY SINGLE move she showed us, I either use every single shift, or could see how it would be invaluable if I were to implement it into my working habits (whoa, how intelligent did that sound?). So it was a really, really valuable course, and I told the trainer that. Got my official HCA induction days at the end of next month where, having worked on the ward for 5 months, I'll finally be told how to do my job.
Sez's 18th
On Sat night I got a lift with Frankie to the (isolated, impossible to find) hall. There weren't loads of people there, and whilst I knew all of them, only a few were good friends. Plus I was the only non-AHG/AGS person there, which was a bit weird. It was kind of like waking up from a coma and going to a party with people you last saw 2 years ago, and finding it impossible to grasp what they were now like (coz teenagers love to change...) and what they were doing/who they were fucking.
But anyway, it turned out to be a pretty good night, coz I spend most of the beginning with Frankie, and then at about 10, Ruth and Rachel arrived unexpectedly, with Phil in tow. Naturally the rest of the evening was brilliant. And my god, I was so so fucked. By the time I went home I'd had 3 spliffs, a pill and 6 drinks, and was way beyond wasted.
Ruth, Rachel and I sat in a little corner room doing puzzles and reading kids' books. I dared Ruth to come on the church flag, so instead she er, wiped her fingers on it.
Since I took the pill really late, by the time I went home my wastedness had gone from dopey and heavy headed to really fucking alert and twitchy. So I sat still on my bedroom floor for about an hour, alternating between sending a billion texts to Ruth, Phil and Becca, and just staring at stuff on the floor. I sat and sat and sat. Eventually I semi-snapped out of it and reminded myself that it might be a good idea to get into bed since a) I had to get up the next morning and b) the clocks were changing. After a fag which seemed to last forever, I slowly got myself into bed, and slept.
I wish.
I couldn't sleep. I woke up every hour at least, slowly watching it get lighter, feeling annoyingly restless. At 6.30 I was so awake that I got up and emailed Ruth and Steffie before going back to bed. I did manage to get about 1 hour's sleep before I had to get up for good. And after being up for about an hour, the combination of lack of sleep and the volume of chemicals in my system started to kick in.
MFY (Music For Youth)
On Sunday when I got to AMC, I was TIRED. And I got tireder. There were hours of sitting around waiting. My head was constantly drooping, my eyes were drying up and my contacts clouding over, and my legs kept wobbling; I nearly lost my balance several times. And fuck me, my stomach hurt. It was like period pain but higher up, as if it were food poisoning or something. It was so sharp, and I had no idea why it was there and why it wouldn't fuck off and leave me alone. But somehow, I managed to forget all of that and get into into my 'cello zone' when I was actually playing, meaning I could make a half-decent job of it and not fuck it up just coz I was so wrecked.
After the whole thing was over, Sarah came home with us and the two of us sat and watched the remainder of Heroes series 1 (eps 16-23). I kept falling asleep on the sofa - sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes for a couple of minutes. Mum had to wake me up and tell me I was dribbling at one point. Nice.
Anyway, Sarah is now up to speed with things, and both of us feel very complete.
5 days til the wedding, and 6 til we go to Ireland! Yay.
Appendix: Ruth told me a great joke at the party: If mothers celebrate Mother's Day and fathers celebrate Father's day, do wankers celebrate Palm Sunday?