Just a catalogue of disasters...

Well, one disaster to be more specific. And actually, not so much a disaster as an amusing anecdote... for you. Not for me. For me, a painful reminder of why our dog is so rubbish.

I was home this weekend, and like a good daughter (and 1/3-owner) I walked the dog morning and evening every day I was back. Once my beloved boyfriend was back, he was dragged out as well, much as he tried to look disapproving (he loves walking her really, he just doesn't know it).

Anyway... Sunday morning was my last chance to walk the lovely puppy for an entire two weeks, so of course I agreed to a nice long walk over the Down's with beloved & the puppy. This was my first mistake. What I should have said was "no, no, mum, you take her, I will be wrestling with gorillas" - or any other excuse.

So off we went, in a bit of a manic rush... got to the Down's, and realised we hadn't brought a lead. How smooth. Oh well, the dog mostly comes back when she's called (unless, of course, there is something moving/breathing/generally being there, which she finds more interesting), so never mind. Off we went.

Of course, she did a poo within seconds, and as best beloved refuses to pick this up, I was on dog poo duty. Which isn't a massive issue, you have to take the rough with the smooth, blah blah blah. Oh, and I do medicine, so I see far more grim things literally every day.

Anyway. We carried on, the dog chased the ball, we walked, it was sunny, fantastic. Until we got to the bit near the dog poo bin, when I "would just pop over there to the bin, back in a sec-----". For ----- you need to imagine yours truly going flying when foot gets caught in a rabbit hole. Even as I fell I remembered how many times I have broken my wrist, and so tucked it out of harms way. Consequently landing on my shoulder. OW. Ow ow ow ow ow.

But it seemed ok. So eventually we got up (best beloved came over and gave me a cuddle, the dog ignored me for 5 minutes then brought the ball over so I could carry on playing), and walked back, arm still a bit achy, but nothing awful. Finished our day at home (yummy fajitas for lunch), got the train back (lots of idiots with loud music), and walked home. Arm still painful... but you know.

Unfortunately, my arm has now changed it's mind. And it HURTS. So, I can't move it forwards, backwards, sideways, or up. And that's pretty much all the options for arms, exhausted. I have a torn supraspinatous muscle, which will "improve with rest". My right arm (the injured one) doesn't understand this concept, particularly as I still need to write, brush my teeth, cook, get dressed, you know... live.

So in summary, don't get a dog.

Or make someone else pick up the poo.

Almost four weeks in...

I can't actually believe I've been back for, well, certainly 3 1/2 weeks. I have been running around in the hospital, taking blood, taking more blood, and, well, taking even more blood. And I've only got one patient! (That, people, was a joke. A poor joke, it's true, but I'm very tired. And not a comedian).

So what have I been up to in these past few weeks? Well, I have been to TWO shows, at TWO separate theatres! Dave Gorman, at the Lancaster Grand was absolutely superb. Unfortunately, he (quite rightly) requested that we didn't leak any details of his show on the internet, so that those who haven't seen it don't have it ruined. Suffice to say, it was absolutely fantastic, and I laughed and laughed.

The second show that I went to see was booked on an absolute whim (Dave Gorman having been booked in about May)... whilst looking on Ticketmaster for various other things, I ended up finding that "I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue" was playing in a) Manchester and b) Bristol. Now, when we were little, my parents used to listen to ISIHAC in the car, and I'll be honest, I never understood it. Or not much of it anyway (other than the end bit - the Doctors ball/the mechanics film club, etc). However, when searching for tapes to play in my car (I know, I am the only person with the exceptionally old school tape player), I found some of these tapes. And they are fantastic. Crash-the-car-laughing funny... and so I've been listening ever since.

So of COURSE I couldn't pass over an opportunity to see them live! And although it was tempting to pop back to Bristol for the weekend, I had plans, and so instead I found myself on a train to Manchester last Friday evening, ready to see ISIHAC stage tour. It was hilarious. Again, I laughed, and laughed, but this time, I also played the kazoo! This was so very exciting... I hasten to add that it wasn't JUST me playing kazoo, but that the rest of the audience were able to play along too.

What else? Ah yes, the infamous pub quiz. Three of us went merrily along to our local to participate in the good old pub quiz. Knowing that it's not really a student pub, and that the average age of participants is, well, significantly higher than ours, we weren't expecting to do well. And yet... and yet at the end, we appeared to have tied with another team... in FIRST PLACE.

Unfortunately, the other team are well-known as the pedantic, annoying people who contest everything (and as a result, always win)... but this fact we only found out when we went to the bar and found them arguing about not only their (clearly correct) but also our (obviously wrong) answers. *note brackets denote their beliefs, not mine*. Long story short, we finally were allowed to win (!!!)the tiebreaker with some dignity - at which point the other team 'graciously' stormed out. Ooops. We can't go back now - we think they might break our legs.

And I have just realised, that it is dark, and a certain tortoise needs some cress soon, so I must pop upto Spar and get some. Unfortunately, it IS dark, and I have to go right past the pub where our murderous competitors spend their time. I may wear a mask...

If you've not heard from me in, say, three weeks... maybe send out a search party...

I might as well be writing by candlelight...

Before I commence on my main, bitter, angry theme for the day, a brief reflection on the joys of a first day back.

Well, busy, really. MAU (Medical Admissions, the next logical step after A&E for a lot of patients) is always full, and crazy. Lots of poorly people, lots of tests, lots of histories to be taken. But I bravely plunged in, and had a surprisingly good day, although rather exhausting – a VERY long ward round was followed by a lot of clerkings, and the day was rounded off by a reminder of how much I hate cannulae.

Anyway! On to my reflection for the day…

I live in a house I love, in a nice neighbourhood, with friendly neighbours, and I have a gorgeous garden (with a rhubarb patch!). The house is cosy, my room is beautiful, and I am very happy here.

Unfortunately, la mouche in la ointment is the unbelievably annoying people who take my rent. This is not my wonderful landlord, who is always helpful (and very accepting of the tortoise). No, this is the so-called “housing service” for the university (naming no names, you understand). They insisted that this year, we go all-inclusive for bills; i.e. rather than organising our own energy, internet, etc, we would pay them more and they would deal with the bills.

Fine.

Bills last year were not really an issue. Annoying when we had to pay them, even more annoying when we had to fight with the various companies because they’d overcharged us, but still. Just the way life is. Internet was set up, the phone was set up, everything was fine.

After arguing (to no avail) with the housing people, we finally accepted that we had to go all-inclusive, but with one condition. As medical students, we were going to be back early, and we therefore needed the internet to be ready when we moved in. This was to allow us the chance to work of an evening.

Guess who doesn’t have internet. And who had to wait in all evening because “our engineer is coming round after 5.30 to sort it out”. And guess who is absolutely FOAMING at the mouth because she can’t research her essay. Oh, and one final guess who… guess who is going to make a huge fuss at the housing company tomorrow.

If you said “why, Liv, it is, of course, you”… you would be right.

Incidentally, when I rang the housing office today to confirm that the engineer was coming this evening, they referred to me on FOUR separate occasions as Jodie. Despite introducing myself, correcting them every single time, and explaining that noone in the house was called anything even approaching the name Jodie. (Oh, and I know the people who have lived in the house for the last 6 years. None of them have been called Jodie).

So I am angry. And “disappointed”. And debating which side to show tomorrow, when I go to the housing people and demand the internet…

Rant over.

It’ll be a better day tomorrow.

** Update on the internet situation... not for the faint hearted...

New estimate for getting internet at our house... 14th September. I hate them, I hate them. Oh, but it's ok, because "we can use the library on campus if we're desperate". Except that it's shut on Sundays. Because it's not term-time.

So we are reduced to crouching in the little room, laptop precariously balanced on the windowsill, pilfering the unsecured internet in the street.

It's quite challenging to research diabetes when your back feels like it might fall off because you're in such a terrible position (and manual handling lady from the other day would be APPALLED).

Going home next weekend. Can't wait.