Revision

Revision.
It feels like I have been revising for my ENTIRE LIFE.
Which can't be true, because I must have spent some of my life actually learning stuff to revise, right?
Anyway, I just wanted to share with you
that I am at that stage in revision
where everything is distracting
because nothing is as dire as doing more revision

food?
yes
I will eat it
a rubbish tv programme?
I will happily
happily watch it
Minesweeper?
You don't want to watch me play minesweeper
Update my blog
with no actual content
just whittering about how much I hate revision?
Yes, thanks. Lovely. I'll take that. That's a freebie.

I just thought I'd record today in my blog for posterity
today is the day I have had ENOUGH of revision

this will, however, make no actual difference to the amount of revision I do in the future, as it seems my life is basically going to be one big revision fest over and over again. And with revision, it doesn't even END, because even if you could theoretically stop learning stuff, you NEVER have to stop REVISING STUFF. NEVER.

:-/

Listen, ophthalmology textbook, I am weary. I am weary of knowing that the medial rectus inserts 5.5mm from the limbus, whereas the lateral rectus inserts 6.9mm from the limbus and the inferior rectus inserts 6.5mm from the limbus, that the inferior lacrimal duct opening is slightly more medial than the superior, that the three principal actions of the superior oblique is depression, abduction and excyclotorsion while the three principal actions of the superior rectus is elevation, medial duction and incyclotorsion, that the lateral rectus is supplied with one of the anterior ciliary arteries while all the other rectus muscles are supplied with paired anterior ciliary arteries, while the long and short posterior ciliary arteries supply the uveal tract (the short anastomosing within the circle of Zinn to supply the optic nerve), and I DEFINITELY am not interested in the suspensory ligament of Lockwood. No. I'm not.

All of that stuff just spilled out of my head. It's like I can just open my head....and all that stuff can just fall out. It's inexhaustible! It's pushed everything else out! I have nothing else going on in my head. At all. Nothing.

Yesterday one of my friends asked me, 'so Connie, how does the combined oral contraceptive work again?' and despite having been on O&G for the last THREE MONTHS, when I could have explained this in my sleep, for a second my mind went totally blank, apart from a tiny voice said, 'hmm, well that definitely isn't on the ophthalmology syllabus. Wouldn't you be more interested in the different kinds of glands in the eye ( Meibomian, which is a sebaceous, holocrine gland; the glands of Zeiss, which are serous; the 2 types of accessory lacrimal gland, the principal lacrimal gland- a tubuloacinar structure derived from surface ectoderm and lined with cuboidal epithelium - occasionally bilayered), and of course the goblet cells of the conjunctiva which are more numerous in the inferonasal region of the eye (why? WHO KNOWS)" and then I realised I'd blanked out for about 1 minute and the conversation had moved on.

Isn't it fascinating that the iris only  has epithelium on its posterior surface (the anterior surface is really a modified basement membrane, which doesn't count), while the lens only has epithelium on its anterior surface? (I actually do find this fascinating, which...I don't know what that says about me right now.) That there is carbonic anhydrase in the non-pigmented ciliary body epithelium but not in the pigmented (which, by the way, lie together apex to apex, not base to base: there are no tight junctions in the non-pigmented epithelium but there are in the pigmented epithelium - or wait, is it the other way round? - and they form part of the blood-aqueous barrier), that....

No?

I am daily astonished by just how much anatomy (oh, what a small word for the world of pain that is the anatomy of the head and neck, eye, and brain), embryology, pharmacology, and OPTICS, FRIGGING OPTICS that there is in the world.

You know

the only thing that keeps me going

is knowing my sister is going to medical school

and she doesn't know ANY of this yet!

Nothing!!!

When I think about how much stuff I know now compared to how much I knew when I started medical school, oh boy. I fill up with hysterical laughter thinking how difficult it all was. It was so! difficult! And she doesn't know ANY OF IT.

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Oh, I'm so happy. Oh, thank goodness for that. That's cheered me right up.
Nothing like a bit of schadenfreude for your nearest and dearest.

Now excuse me, I'm off to draw 50 ray diagrams on the use of the Porro prism in the indirect ophthalmoscope.

And also, maybe watch an episode of Masterchef Australia.

Weep for me.

GP

Things that have happened so far on my GP rotation

1) Me: "Hello, what brings you here today?"
Woman: "hi, I hate my job."
Me: "................ok. What would you like to do about that?"
Woman: "I dunno. I thought you would know."

2) Two small children roll about on my lap. One wipes its nose on the back of my cardigan while another grabs hold of my thigh and rubs her face on it. Then sneezes into it. Their mother is detailing exactly how many men she has slept with this month and how 'there's this weird cauliflower in my vag, but it's not warts, is it? tell me it's not warts. I've had warts before." Me: "Sounds like warts." Her: "HOW CAN YOU KNOW? How can you possibly know?"

3) My GP takes me to see a patient in lunchtime and ends up buying a fireplace.

4) Woman: "I'm bleeding from my anus."
Me: "Ok. Shall we get you on the bed and I can examine you?"
I draw back the curtain to find her standing with her cheeks spread between her hands, bent over the bed.
Woman: "Is this how you wanted me?"
Me: ":-O"

5) Woman: "I think my son is brain damaged."
Me: "Why?"
Woman: "He's got a headache. And occasionally he sticks his tongue out when he's thinking."
Me: "Right."
Lengthy neuro exam later.
Me: "Everything's normal. I think he has a squint. That is probably causing his headache."
Woman: "Are you qualified? Like, as in a real doctor?"

6) Me: "I see it says here you have chest pain."
Man: "No, that's just because I was embarrassed. I actually have worms."

7) My GP takes me to see a patient in lunchtime and buys a piano.

8) Woman: "I need antibiotics."
Me: "What for?"
Woman: "Never you mind what for."


1 week down. 12 to go.

Also Whales! Also seals! Also!

Yeah I know this is what you've been waiting for.

Woo!

Oh yes. You beauty.

The sperm whale is a strange and incredible creature. It can dive down to over 1.5km underwater (while the greatest human submarines can only manage about 400m). Its nostrils are at the end of its very long nose, rather than on top of its head like other whales (resulting in a very complex nasal apparatus - imaging being a whale ENT surgeon.) It swims around with a head full of sperm  oil. It is highly poetic. And it is a force of nature. Even the females are mind-bogglingly huge, and watching it from the boat - hello, fellow mammal! - had a hint of the surreal that this incredible animal and I are in the same class. 

Yes, whales.

Later.

***

First, to pick off where we left off, we were making our way to Nelson. On our way from Nelson to Blenheim, we had passed through the Nelson Lakes, and on our way back, we drove along the sunshiny coast. Before I go on, I must share Nelson Lakes with you: another small part of yet more incredible landscape (how is New Zealand so chocablock full of these?), we stopped at Lake Rotoiti and admired the calmness of the water. I love how a single duck leaves a wake so long - 

We got there just before a gaggle of schoolchildren. Imagine going to school in New Zealand! With this!

I bet they didn't appreciate it enough.

***

Another amusing thing happened on our way down: we got pulled over by a car proclaiming a 'wide load' was coming through on the state highway...

Me: "What's coming?"

Them: "Aw, a house mate*!"

Me: "!!!"

(* to clarify: not a housemate, mate. A house, mate.)

Turns out, it was not a figure of speech.

A house!

A house being carried down the state highway!

There are so many things that are Only In New Zealandish about that that I can't even start.

***

Speaking of Only in New Zealand...

In one of the little tiny grocery stores in one of the little tiny villages - a grocery store which sells almost nothing but fishing bait, dehydrated foods, basic toiletries and bread - we found this on the shelf.

Yes, where space is sorely limited for produce and this is the only grocery shop for miles around, the most important things to stock are the ingredients for Kiwi Dip. Reduced cream. Dried packet onion soup. In case you didn't believe me. There it is. Documentary evidence. People buy this stuff. They mix it together. And they eat that shit. And they LOVE IT.

See? Kiwis. Mad.

***

So we drove down and around the windy coast, through to Nelson. We stopped in on Hoglund Glass Gallery along the way to search for a glass kiwi we had seen in Queenstown but had dithered about buying. It was beautiful - 'like colour therapy' - and they also had an amazing video showing how the glass was blown there.  They blow glass during the spring, and Easter through to summer, and if you are ever in that part of the world it is well worth going to. Spectacular pieces, and incredible colours. It really is therapy. Perhaps we can persuade the NHS to invest in a room? I'm sure it would make everyone much much happier just to have a gaze. 

Nelson is the littlest city, cute as a button, and situated in its own weather bowl - you can literally see the clouds approaching, take a halt, and then edge casually around the harbour as if they had always been going to do that (like a herd of cats...) As a result, it is the sunniest place in New Zealand. Incidentally, it also harbours the first rugby field in New Zealand - a mighty cultural relic indeed - and the exact geographical centre, a centre on top of a hill that we managed to huff up in 25 minutes of very fast climbing indeed, after someone at the bottom claimed it's 'a quick 10 minuter, mate'.

and there it is. 

I have noticed that a New Zealand 10 minutes of 'easy' physical activity inevitably means about 20 minutes of intense labour while a UK 10 minutes usually means about 7. An US version, on the other hand, seems to mean about 2 minutes, but only if you've got severe asthma and only one leg, otherwise 1. 

I'm sure this means something, besides my tendency to offensively generalise between nations.

***

Tim's godfather, Carl, lives in Nelson, and took us around for the day, including a quick wander through the Nelson museum, which he enjoyed thoroughly (exclamations of 'gosh!' and 'well fancy that!' - I do like going to a museum with someone properly enthusiastic - and also, a propos of nothing, 'The Queen. She's doing fantastically for 84. I don't think much of Charles though' followed us throughout the museum.) 

Before that, we visited Nelson's model village (and a spot of beer tasting - see above, which Carl thoroughly approved of "proper beer here, you see"). Nelson is really made for pootling about in, pottering and generally not doing very much, and so that is what we did for much of the day, walking along the beach and doing very little and enjoying the last of the autumn sun.

In the evening, Carl's lovely wife, Inga, cooked us an exceptional meal, during which Carl talked generally about New Zealand ('well, I never would have imagined you coming here, Tim. Did they just send you a letter saying, 'do you fancy it?' and you just said, 'all right?' Tim: "well..it was a bit more complicated than that..."), Golden Bay  and his 'cottage' there (a 4 bedroomed, 3 bathroomed house...), and the Queen again ('Doing so fantastically for 85.')  

Later that evening, Tim went for a choir rehearsal with Carl, which sounded pretty good. I fell asleep on the sofa, to be awakened when Carl returned with 'the gang' for a drinks party - a lot of very pleasant Kiwis and some former Brits who stood around and advised us generally about medicine, life, singing, marriage (Carl: "You'll soon learn to obey her in everything. She who must be obeyed! Ho ho!") and, inevitably the Queen again (Carl: "She's an incredible woman, for 86.") We slept very well in Carl's guest room (Carl: "Do you need a hottie in bed with you?" Me: "It's ok Carl, I have Tim." Carl: "Oh, well, he is a hottie isn't he?") and the next day reluctantly set off to Kaikoura, to see the baby seals.

Well, not that reluctantly, because of the baby seals. But otherwise, reluctantly.

***

The Kaikoura peninsula ('Kai' - eat: 'koura' - crayfish. Though we did not eat any crayfish for it was fricking expensive) is a wildlife haven, full of seals and whales and dolphins and the works, really. The drive down there was spectacularly beautiful, as always: another part of New Zealand framed by mountain and sea:

Oh, you.

While we were in Kaikoura, we took the opportunity to go whale watching, something I must recommend if you are ever in the area. (I keep on doing this. As if you might 'just be in the area', casually. Well, here's hoping.) We saw 5 whales, and they were incredible. It was a calm sea, and a very exciting race to find them - there was someone on the boat to sight them, someone to listen using an underwater sonographer, and then a breakneck dash to try and see them. They seemed totally un bothered by the boat, and we stayed a good distance away. And they were just lovely. Classic.

Before we set off, the organisers did mention sea sickness quite a few times. I thought they were over-egging it slightly, but apparently not, as fully 1/3 to 1/2 of the people on the boat were remarkably seasick, so seasick they were totally unable to actually whale watch, instead lying about inside, looking pale and interesting, and vomiting loudly and continuously into paper bags. I bet the stewards did not think they were signing up for this kind of thing when they got a job in whale watching. What's more, as it was a marine reserve, you're not allowed to throw anythign overboard - so you can't be sick outside. Luckily, Tim and I escaped, though being surrounded by 20 retching Indians (it did seem to be the Indians predominantly affected on our trip, strangely) was a surreal and not entirely pleasant experience. I'm sure it was worse for them.

****

After the whales, we caught the last few minutes of sun to drive up and see the baby seals, which are numerous around Kaikoura but especially in an area called Ohau Point. They which were incredible. They swim up from the ocean in May, and come and live in this little glade in the forest, under the waterfall, where 100s of them swim, and play, and playfight. In the words of the whale watchers - 'they have no fear', and they either ignore you or they come very close and try and eat your coat.

They. Are. Adorable.

Tim got quite broody watching them (Tim: "do you think our children will be as cute as that?" Me: "....")

\

Ohau Point isn't in Lonely Planet, and I would urge you all to go there if you are in the area (ha! just happened to be dropping by...) I wondered why it wasn't in Lonely Planet, and one of the Kiwis told me that maybe it was because people didn't want to draw attention to places like this because people still go around killing baby seals, just as they go around killing keas, which strikes me as desperately sad. 

But if you want to go, you know where it is.

(Hush hush)

They were so cute in fact that next morning we got up at the crack of dawn to go back and watch them again.
And it rained a little bit for the first time on our holiday.
There we go! Rain.

And on coming home, I have swung straight back into nights again. I feel quite like a strange, nocturnal animal by now. But only 3 more nights - and then.....dare I hope....might these be my last set of nights ever?

xxx Connie

Update on the bacon sandwich. Also, hot springs. Also, Abel Tasman. Also, eventually, not in this post, but later - whales!

So, I clarified the bacon sandwich situation with some Kiwis, as this had been praying upon my mind. Apparently they do exist here, but they are not to be bought! Not for ready money. They are purely a home made thing. You just can't get them in the shops. 

So now we know. 

I suppose it's nice to see that Capitalism hasn't conquered New Zealand yet, though slightly disappointing that bacon sandwiches should be the manifestation of this worthy politico-economic stand.

***

So, Tim and I went on holiday together after our joint nights which were, as ever, very, very pleasant. I finished off my chapters on Neuroanatomy (painful, though it did include the sentence 'the cerebellum is very fashionable in neuroscience', which brought back memories of my highly fashionable third year.) And we both developed a streaming cold, which we drowned in the thermal waters of Hanmer Springs, just North of Christchurch; specifically, the sulphur section. 

This is me, looking fresh faced and clean the morning after my facial, which I had with Tim (!) - yes, we had a facial together, and very welcome it was too on a rainy, grey autumn afternoon. I know you may have trouble believing it rains in New Zealand, but it does. I've just carefully removed any evidence of it in my photos so far. 

Tim: (afterwards) "Um. Was it meant to burn?"

Me: "No!"

Tim: "I know she said to say if anything was painful but I wasn't sure whether I should mention it really....anyway it was all very nice."

Anyway, it's fine, Tim's face is still mostly on and we had a good time in the hot pools afterwards, especially on the Superbowl - 

- an amazing contraption you ride down on an inflatable ring designed for either 1 or 2 people, where you spin around like a centrifuge and then drop down what I think of as a plughole down the middle, forwards, backwards, any way you like. It was brilliant. We went on it 4 times. 

Hanmer was a top start to our Top of the South Island holiday. It's about 2 hours north of Christchurch, and a very sleepy little town, centred around the thermal springs. In the morning, after a good splash about till we were warm up to the marrow, we set off for the very top of North Island, Abel Tasman National Park. We were staying with some friends that night in a little cottage with a hedge maze, up a 'very long driveway - don't give up', as per the instructions - part of which included a plank over a river ('if the river floods it is impassable, so park your car on the other side and get out while you still can.') Luckily the river was not in flood, though we got lost in the driveway itself and managed to drive straight into a neighbour's garden. They very patiently directed us out again (our friends, it turned out later, had made exactly the same mistake.) 

It's a confusing place, the New Zealand countryside.

Along the way, we stopped in Buller Gorge and crossed the longest swing bridge in New Zealand, and zipped back on the flying fox, or zipwire. 

The scenery was incredible, and the swing bridge was just the right amount of slightly wobbly to provide interest but not overwhelming terror. Looking down, I realised again how little I wanted to bungy jump.  

Buller Gorge was affected by the Murchison earthquake in 1929 and you can see some of the faultlines where the earth moved upwards 4.5m instantaneously at the time of the quake, creating some of the sheer drops down to the water. It was an incredible reminder of just how volcanic this young country we had come to was.

Also, a great chance to play on a zipwire (again.)

At least we didn't have to get into a wetsuit.

***

The next day, we went kayaking in Abel Tasman.

Note below Sen etc are wearing wetsuits.

I refused on principle! Principle!

We got dragged to the beach on the back of an enormous tractor - Abel Tasman has one of the greatest tidal ranges in New Zealand - over 5 metres - and when the tide's out, the boats are all beached as - when the tide's in, it's impassable. The tractor navigated the intermediate stage for us.

Another spectacular view. It's hard to believe this is the equivalent of the end of November back in the UK - it was sunny as, and all the birds were singing. In the words of Callum, our very cheery guide, 'it's almost brochure weather!'

Almost, Callum? What kind of insane standards have you got? 

We pootled around the islands, heard a good deal of very beautiful birdsong, saw some very sleepy seals, heard Callum's story, "well, I visited up here one day, and I thought, hey, this is a pretty nice place to live, so I didn't go back. I mean I literally didn't go back. I was on holiday, so I just phoned and quit my job, and then I did a tourism degree, and now I'm here, kayaking every day on this sea and enjoying all this sunshine."

Us: "We're applying for jobs in Nelson next year."

Callum: "Well why the hell wouldn't you?"

Well, quite, Callum. Indeed. 

***

After the kayak, we pulled up on Watering Cove, one of many bays visited by an exploring Frenchman who got quite friendly with the local Maoris ("He was a great explorer...but kind of a shitty husband. Anyway, he named a load of islands after his wife to make it up to her" - quote Callum's rendition of history). There we had the most wholesome lunch ever at a little picnic table on the sand. Then, Tim and I said goodbye to the kayakers and popped up the coastal path for a 3hr 45 minute walk back to base camp. I know it was 3hrs and 45 minutes because we timed it, and boy, by the time we got back, we were achey. 

It was beautiful though. That much is certain.

Look! Kayakers (that tiny white smudge) in the sea!

And after our day out, we went back, ate about our bodyweight in pasta, and fell asleep by 8:30pm - a recurring theme of my travels thus far.

But as I say, at least I wasn't in a wetsuit. 

Thank god for that.

***

And the next day, we set off to Blenheim.

We deviated at this point from our friends, who were driving down to the Glaciers - a 7 hour drive (holy mother) in a desperate attempt to see all of New Zealand before they leave (that was their first mistake - leaving). They also had two people visiting from the UK who were also, true to form, desperate to see as much of New Zealand as possible, and were slightly dismissive of our love for the Marlb sav rounds. "Can't you do wine tasting in the UK?" said one.

Us: "Can you?"

Them: "Well...maybe."

Really? We had this in the UK?

Well, I am astounded with astoundishment.

I love this photo - the sheep having a bit of a graze in the foreground. Vines in the middle. And the mountains at the back. New Zealand in a photo sandwich.

Just as delicious as Wairau River sauvignon blanc, which was mind-blowingly good. All the Marlborough Savs are really. In the words of Margaret, O&G clinic nurse - "I visited Australia once. As soon as I got on the Air New Zealand plane I had to have a glass of sav. It's coming home."

Well done, Margaret. Someone hand that woman a glass of the good stuff.

We stopped at Wairau first to have lunch, because we were starving (surprising, given the amount of pasta we ate the night before, but then my ability to be always hungry has surprised many. It's an ability that just keeps on giving) - and a staggeringly good lunch it was too - and to have plenty of their very delicious wine. We then toddled on to the Vines village, where Tim studied their philosophy:

...and where we ate fudge and ice cream and lazed about in the sun, and drank champagne with 'a tiny bead' (snigger) which was very, very delicious. The champagne makers had called themselves the Number 1 Family Estate - a good name if you want to set up an estate, I guess - because of 'Numerology'. Gosh. That's some complicated stuff there, working out that Number 1 is considered a good number when comparing wineries. I shouldn't wonder they used graphs and everything.

And then we went on to Framingham, and met a UK woman who had moved here 7 years ago "oh, came here on holiday you see, and, um, never left. Just bought a vineyard. I suppose everyone's allowed to do something crazy in your life."

There's a theme developing here.

****

Buckets of Riesling later, we finally dragged ourselves away to the Doctors for a last tasting before having a well earned rest (since we'd been working so hard all day, drinking so much wine and eating so much food, poor, poor us, someone's got to do it etc) before dinner. In the interests of New Zealand culturey, I persuaded Tim to watch The Piano, which I enjoyed very much. I'm not sure Tim did. I note that the main character moves to Nelson in the end. Well, as Callum might say, why the hell wouldn't she? Her main mistake was in not going there in the first place, to my way of thinking.

Dinner was very delicious, though we were sat next to an unbearable Australian man who spent the whole time bothering the waiter. Oh, Aussies (sorry, he has tarred all of you with his massive dickhead brush.) Thanks heavens we didn't apply there (though who knows if we would have got a job? We hear it's pretty hard to find a place there these days, with the number of disillusioned Brits coming through.)

And the next day, we, inevitably, made our way to Nelson.

***

To be continued!

Bacon rrrrrolll

Dear folks,

An announcement from Nights in New Zealand:

New Zealanders do not know about bacon sandwiches.

True Story. When Tim and Dave, fellow brit abroad, went for breakfast after nights, Dave, in his inimitable Scottish way, asked for a 'bacon roll' at the breakfast counter of the hospital.

Server: "What?"
Dave: "A bacon roll."
Server: "I don't understand."
Dave: "A roll...with bacon in it."
Server: "What?"
Dave: "It's a sandwich. You put bacon between two bits of bread."
Server: "We don't do that here."
Dave: "No, it's very simple....you...I can see the bread from here! It's just over there! And there's bacon right in front of me!"
Server: "I don't know what you're talking about."
Dave: "Can you just give me a plate with bacon on and two slices of bread and I'll make it myself?"
Server: ".....ok........if you're sure that's what you want...."

And now Dave is established firmly as a massive weirdo in the hospital cafeteria.

After a few months of living here, we realised that something they fricking love in New Zealand is a thing called the asparagus roll, which is, wait for it.....a bit of asparagus rolled up, yes, literally rolled up, in a bit of white bread. New Zealand cuisine at its finest, and I'm not counting the Kiwi dip (first definition loves - it is literally a packet of onion soup mix and some sour cream. I literally cannot understand how anyone invented this. It is disgusting) the fairy bread, and the countless other oddities Kiwis apparently enjoy putting into their mouths.

I love New Zealand, but honestly. Packet onion soup mix? In a fricking dip? It's against all laws of man and nature.

So, anyway, having realised that the asparagus roll exists, Tim and I wondered if perhaps the Kiwis had got confused about Dave's bacon roll. Whether they'd thought he actually wanted a bit of bacon literally rolled up inside a little bit of bread, like the asparagus. To be fair, we thought, that would be a pretty bonkers request. And so we forgave the Kiwis.

But today proved once and for all that Kiwis just actually do not understand what a bacon roll is. They just lack the concept.

After nights, Tim and I popped over to the cafe across the road, which is, for reasons best known to itself and the owner, called Not Now, James! (with the exclamation mark. I didn't add it.) We were post nights. We were tired. We were, for the first time since coming to this country, quite fancying a bacon sandwich. A bacon butty. If you will, a bacon rrrooll.

This was the conversation at the counter:

Me: "Could we have a bacon sandwich please?"
Server: "What?"
Me: "Just a sandwich, with some bacon in it?"
Server: "Do you mean a toasted sandwich?"
Me: "No no. Just two bits of bread. With bacon in the middle."
Server: "......just bacon? Between two bits of bread?"
Tim: "Well with a bit of sauce as well, if you can manage that."
Server: "Right. I'll ask the kitchen."

Long debate in the kitchen later.

Server: "Just bacon? Between some white bread?"
Me: (stifling urge to laugh) "Yes. That's it."

At this point, the kitchen staff poked its head out

Kitchen: "You do realise that the bacon will be hot, don't you?"
Me: "!!!! Yes I hope so!"
Kitchen: "Right. So you want hot bacon...in between two slices of normal bread, and a bit of sauce. And you're sure that's what you want."
Me: "You guys don't really do the concept of bacon sandwiches in this country, do you?"
Server: "Well....we do have them. Like...do you mean the BLT?"

Ah, bless you love. I do not mean the BLT.

Anyway, we got our bacon sandwich (it took a long time, and with mysteriously cool bacon in the middle - Tim and I are convinced that they really couldn't believe hat we wanted hot bacon in a sandwich and deliberately cooled it down for us) in the end, plus proof that the Kiwis really just don't get the concept of bacon sandwiches. And, reviewing our order, it does seem a bit odd for the unintiated - hot bacon, between two limp slices of white bread, with a bit of sauce? And nothing else? Really? How...how can that be tasty?

To which I can only say: as tasty as Kiwi dip, my Kiwi friends. At least as tasty as Kiwi dip.

Finishing O&G

The first departures from New Zealand are happening, and I've caught my first cold of the season. It's raining in Palmy, and it's too, too sad.

In better news, last weekend we went again to Welly to live it up on the town, and we went again to Alice, the cocktail bar that serves tea based cocktails in delicious teapots. Delicious! On Sunday we had breakfast at the harbourside market, drank a lot of cold drinks and generally enjoyed the last beautiful sun of the season. It was boiling hot - 25 degrees or possibly more - and we lay about on the harbourside playing the standard game - which boat would I have if I could afford a boat? I think one with a pointy nose, and a sail.

We also took the opportunity to catch up with Helen (Helen of beach BBQ fame - do you remember her?) and Jamie, who are leaving for the UK in about a month but lost their heads and bought two puppies. It is so comforting knowing someone like Helen (mad), because I know that no matter how much I may lose my head and occasionally buy a pair of shoes that I don't really need, I will never quite match her amazing, insane standard. Oh Helen. I will miss you.

***

In other news, I am coming to the end of my long long stint in O&G and I will be sad to go. It's been an education, not least that I'm now an ace at finding a cervix wherever it may be hidden (yeah, hide your cervix where you will, I WILL FIND IT.) I've become much better at dictation also, though it's still stilted, forced, and terribly uncomfortable, filled with long pauses (I received an email from the poor typist at one point - "dear Connie, have you considered using the pause button when you have nothing to say?") I have, however, collated a whole series of wonderful quotes from the Consultants on O&G. It seems that being on O&G must make you into a very, very special person indeed. Though I should make it clear that the Consultants below are not all the same very special person.

During presentation on vaginal birth after C-section (VBAC)
Consultant 1: "You know the greatest rate of VBAC is in Golden Bay."
Consultant 2: "Of course it's in Golden Bay. They're all hippies there. They're so hippy it's like they watched Woodstock: The Movie and thought it was a homework assignment."
***

Consultant: "That man is an (stage whisper to TI) absolument fool!"
Me: "An absolute fool?"
Consultant: "Oh! (surprised look) You speak French?"

***
At handover
Registrar: "And overnight one of our post partum ladies came in with a whole body rash."
Consultant: "Oh yes, well, chocolate body paint can be incredibly irritating. I mean, so I've heard."

***
Consultant 3: "(to female registrar), if you were a man, your balls would be clanging together. And by that I mean, you would have balls of steel."

***

At handover
Registrar: "So we had a 45 year old with previous hysterectomy, who came in with acute pelvic pain. Bloods were all fairly normal, and - "
Consultant: "What was the b-HCG?" (Pregnancy hormone level)
Registrar: "I - "
Consultant: "You didn't do a b-HCG?"
Registrar: "No but - "
Consultant: "(working himself up) You didn't do a b-HCG? Of course not. Of course you didn't. Because you don't think that anyone over 40 has sex! That's right! Don't deny it! But NONE OF YOU (pointing accusingly around the room at all the SHOs and Registrars) believe that ANYONE over 40 has sex! Well I'm letting you know now, we DO. And it's GREAT. It's probably better sex than YOU'RE having. So NEVER assume that someone over 40 isn't having sex just because you don't BELIEVE IT!"
Registrar: "She's had a hysterectomy."
Consultant: "What?"
Registrar: "I didn't do a b-HCG because she's had a hysterectomy."
Consultant: "You didn't tell me she had a hysterectomy!"
Registrars and SHOs in chorus: "Yes she did."
Consultant: "No! You're making it up. You're all in it together!"
Consultant 2: "There was a case 20 years ago I was involved in where a woman had an ectopic after a hysterectomy - there was a hole in the vaginal cuff which allowed sperm to enter the peritoneum which somehow made its way up to the tube at the same time as she ovulated which ended up in her tube."
Consultant 1: "Thanks for that Consultant 2."
Consultant 2: "You're welcome. So, you know. It's possible she's pregnant and has an ectopic."
Consultant 1: "Yeah....thanks. I think we'll leave that."

***

Patient: "I just want to know...what can I do to get pregnant?"
Consultant: "You just need to keep trying. But be gentle with your husband. Remember....he's just a man."

***

Patient: "After this procedure, can I have sex?"
Consultant: "Yes, but...well...how can I put this with such a young doctor in the room? (glancing at me)"
Me: "I'll try not to listen."
Consultant: "Yes, block your ears. (Stage whisper to patient) DON'T GO TOO DEEP. (to me) You can listen again now."

***

Something I've also enjoyed a lot about O&G is the way patients repeatedly ask me, often while I'm, um, examining them, "Do you enjoy doing this job?" What on earth do they expect me to say in reply to this? "Not really" "Absolutely" and "Umm, well I'm sort of neutral about it really" are all, well, frankly inappropriate at such a moment.

Something I've enjoyed slightly less is the preponderance of 16 year olds who have already had a baby and no partner and don't want to have another baby but are not using any contraception. WHY?
16 year old "Oh, I've heard the pill makes you fat."
Me: "Right, because babies make you thin."
16 year old: "Wot?"
Me: "Because having a baby is an accepted form of weight loss. That's just what I've heard."
16 year old: "I don't get it."
Me: "Never mind. Have you tried using condoms?"
16 year old" "Oh yeah, my boyfriend doesn't like using condoms."
Me: "Would he like a baby?"
16 year old: (giving me a classic 16 year old 'are you stupid?' look) "Er.....obviously not."
Me: "What do you think he would dislike more - using a condom, or having a baby?"
16 year old: "I don't get it."
Me: "Can you please just use some contraception."

Holy mother.

***

About to go on to nights now with Tim - the first set of nights we will be on together! I am excited! Getting up at night together, going to bed during the day....it will be like being a student again :-)

In other news, I am applying to jobs in New Zealand for next year. It's all very exciting, and we will see what happens - I will keep you up to date with my pitiful efforts to stay employed next year. And after nights, we are going to Hanmer Springs, to get the most epic facial of all time. And my next rotation will be on GP. Will GP be this wonderful? Will I finally get a paying job for next year? Just how smooth can my face get with repeated moisturising? Tune in next month....to find out.

Morrrdorrrr

Autumn's finally here.

And we chose its coming to do the Tongariro Alpine Crossing.

Me: "This will be great! Because it won't be too hot. I hate walking when it's too hot."

Tim: "Yeah. It'll probably be the perfect temperature."

Well. It definitely wasn't too hot. 

This is the landscape of Mordor.

Peter Jackson used Ruapehu (ski tastic wonderland) and Ngauruhoe (try pronouncing that with a mouthful of curry) for Mount Doom.

It was certainly a very bleak and chilly place.

Alpine, in fact.

I suppose the clue was in the name. 

The full track was, disappointingly, still closed due to a tiny volcanic eruption back in November. The track was full of exciting reminders of that time, though, disappointingly again, we saw no flying rocks, volcanic or otherwise.

The really sad effect of all of this closing was that we had to climb a little over the halfway mark - over the top of the crossing and then down again - and then BACK UP. There is nothing as sad as retracing your steps back up a mountain, unless it's descending a mountain knowing that for every step you go down you're going to have to reclimb, while accumulating tons of ashy grit in your boots (see fig. 1, above.)

It was steep as.

But it did not warm us up.

Even the warm lakes couldn't warm us up, though they did make us smell like farts.

Tim maintains it was the lakes. 

Still, it was worth it. A spectacular piece of NZ, a very unwelcoming and alien and beautiful world. 

I mean, look at that. 

We returned home to a very well earned meal of mainly chips (as part of our GrabOne deal, we were staying at a tiny place which provided all of our nutrition for two days. It seemed to only serve chips, and occasionally sausages and beans. It wasn't as nice as you might think. The whole kitchen was run by French people, which seemed surprising. But perhaps that's what they think non-French people eat? Bizarre.) and a very well earned snooze, for we were absolutely cream crackered by the whole thing, having spent a foolish amount of time walking. 6 hours! 6 hours is not an acceptable amount of time to be climbing for. 

Maja and Kirsty, I thought of you and Miss Endorphins 2007 and, well. I've clearly grown old.

So after all that strenuous exertion, we thought the best thing to do the next day would be to go for a 4 hour kayak down the Wanganui.

 That way!

I was still clearly freezing at this point, even though it was, just as clearly, a lovely day. We passed a group of school children who were flinging themselves into the river with great gusto. 

Oh, NZ. You're so wholesome in a way that I thought only existed in Enid Blyton.

That 4 hour paddle nearly destroyed us.

The Wanganui is a grade 2 river - easy enough for beginners like us, and plenty of gentle white water which we gently drifted down with moments of mild panic. Half way along, there was a lavender farm which had a cafe. Having forgotten to bring anything with us, we sadly padded up the slope, used their toilets, gently refused their offers of coffee ("Well, yes, I'd like some coffee. I mean, if you don't mind us not paying...") and tried to dry out slightly (rapids do get you quite wet, it turns out), we ran out of excuses to stay, and had to get back on the road (river) again.

I was tired. 

I'm too old for this. 

But at least I'm not wearing a wetsuit, I thought to myself. I can't deal with getting inside another wetsuit, just not for the next two weeks or so. It occurred to me that it seemed fitting that Bret used getting into a wetsuit as an example of his hurt feelings. Clearly, getting into wetsuits is something that is a NZ routine. It's something everyone can relate to. Then I realised that I'd pondered this before, and that I now spend too much of my time not only being in wetsuits, but also thinking about wetsuits. Which is a sad, rubbery state of affairs. 

Yes, I try and correlate every aspect of my New Zealand experience to Flight of the Conchords. What of it? 

The next day, we warmed up in New Plymouth, which had its very own wind wand, and also the best park known to man, with an awesome cricket ground, a fountain you could turn on and off, and a petting zoo with kune kunes in it!

Their name means fat and round in Maori and they were wonderful.
I think I'm well on the way to convincing Tim to get a pig (two.)

We ate a very large amount of food not involving chips and did almost no exercise and were very warm.
It was bliss.

I didn't quite escape wearing a wetsuit though (I note that I have not had a single holiday in New Zealand so far without wearing a wetsuit. This is preoccupying me. When did I become this person?)

Our perfect holiday was ended, disappointingly, with a slightly untoward incident. Our car bonnet worked loose while we were driving at 90kmph and swung upwards, smashing our windscreen in. We were, to say the least, surprised, and also slightly disapppointed, as we had just bought a car rack. And now we have no car. 

On the other hand, we were not very disappointed, as we had no injuries and everything could have gone a lot worse, so on balance, we counted ourselves pretty lucky.

Also, we got a tow from Bulls, the most puntastic town in New Zealand.

Sitting in the tow truck was very exciting.

But not as exciting as...

Rescued by a pun. It could only happen to a Robson.