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On the floor...

 It was the nth time the junior doctors were on strike, and chaos ensued for us not-so-junior doctors! Back to the basics and the hustle-bustle of the on-call life. I reminisced about my days as a junior doctor in India, where a call boy with a quaint little on-call book dictated our nights. Sign, sprint, and attend – regardless of the sleep deprivation!


Then came the bleep system, a shrieking disruptor in the calm of the night. It was as if my ENT qualifications had traded peace for sleepless emergencies. Oh, how I wished I had known the grim reality of on-call chaos! Maybe I should've just been a barista, serving coffee and listening to customers' tales.


But duty called, especially on strike days. First up, a rugby enthusiast with a mangled nose. He scoffed at the idea of anesthesia, opting for a swift fix. With a deep breath and a crunchy noise, his nose was good as new – one satisfied customer down.


Next, an elderly gent with a nosebleed rivaling a faucet. A quick cauterization and his bleeding came to a halt – another success. Then, in marched a little girl with a bead lodged in her ear. Why beads, why? These menace creatures should be banned for ever!

Eventually with the help of a play leader and some suction magic, the bead was out, and her smile returned.


As the day unfolded, I realized amidst the chaos, there was joy. Life's unpredictability, its spontaneity – it is oddly exhilarating. Perhaps the monotony of routine is what dulls our enjoyment in most jobs. Maybe, just maybe, a trip back to the junior days wouldn't hurt once in a while...

Isn't it?

27/2/24


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