Number of fingers in a rectum: 1
Number of catheters in a penis: 2
Number of needles stuck in veins: more than I can count

So with my favourite stethoscope, my favourite pen, and a bucketload of fear, I have tramped the wards for the first time as a real true doctor. I was unlucky with the rota and have started off on nights on "medical take" - I have to help look after the problems that aren't for the surgeons, like babies, broken bones and appendicitis. It means suicidal people, heart attacks, and chest infections - translated into para od, MI, and LRTI. I have been prescribing medications for real. I have been writing in notes and signing my name doctor, and answering my bleep and saying I'm a doctor. It's like I've been looking down on someone else doing all this, it feels surreal and very strange! That could be the sleep deprivation, or as it's referred to, "the jet lag". I feel I have learned more about real medicine than medical school ever taught me. Two things: firstly, the days of spending as much time as I felt like with patients are over. I hate to have to feel like I am limited in time when I'm talking to people. Secondly, the nurses know more than me about everything.

We have a few hours of teaching every week.The first week was death. We had the coroner talk to us about death certificates, the head of palliative care talk to us about the Liverpool Care Pathway (the principles of looking after people who are dying) and finally the chaplain. He's quite young, and hilarious, and completely adorable. Not in a horrid happy-clappy way. In a genuine way. "The chapel is on the seventh floor," he says. "It's non-clinical. It's dark, There are pillars to hide behind. And I promise, if I see any of you sitting there in a huddled lump, I won't come up to you and say "hello my daughter, what can I do for you?" I may arrange a flower or two, just so you know I'm there." Isn't that wonderful?
I have the day off tomorrow. I'm doing nights for the rest of the week. Hopefully it will go as well as this week has gone.