1. Alas, I lament for my failure as a narrator!
Is my life so monotonous that all I ever talk about is work? And my neverending regret for my inherent weakness to change myself and the world around me? And forget not my penchant to dramatise everything - surely there has to be a limit to what nonsense I get off on!
(If I'm not making any sense, blame it on my lack of sleep last night - all in the name of work!)
In some aspects, surgical is not too bad. Sure, there are those things that still irk me every now and then - such as the impossibility of finding for things when you need them (e.g. X-ray films and case sheets and even the...gel thingy) and how we keep on running out of things (We have too many admissions! Stop getting yourselves sick, people!) and how people still keep on thinking I'm a nurse (Dangit, what the heck is wrong with the world!?) and specialists demanding things that are close to impossible.
There are a few nurses that are helpful. Certain PPKs don't mind sending down the blood samples that I asked for. Certain nursing students didn't mind helping us to do ECGs. So yeah, maybe it's not too bad.
But it still hurts being pressurised by those on top.
We're still understaffed.
The system is still as abominable as ever - if not worse.
I lament for the health state of the general public, and their awareness.
I weep for my own state of being human.
...And I pray that I will not later on become like those I despise.
2. Have you any idea what you've done to me?
I am now a stranger to myself. All these feelings that I can't contain...I can't even pour them into a sonnet, a hymn.
...Then all the feelings manifest as gastritis. And so - foolish that I am! - I can only go, "Wait, what!?"
Current Music: Drive By - Train
