3 weeks ago, just a couple of hours after I landed in Heathrow after a 15-day sweet vacation in the Motherland, I did a horrifyingly cringy, jetlagged-infused, unapologetically honest interview for a Band 6 post in Recovery where I worked for the last 6-8 months (I transferred September 2022, please do the Math for me). And since I am self-actualised, I can tell you from the get-go that it wasn't one of my best performances. I blame the jetlag. I blame the loneliness I was allowing myself to feel after a vacation. There was no one else to blame but me.
BUT!!!! I was given a chance, I got in. I was offered the position. Yayyyy??! Uhmmm not really.
I know there is a vast space of knowledge and skills to learn and unlearn (and catch up) - but hey, I love studying new things. Eyebrows will be raised because I know that I am very junior compared to some of the staff - but hey, I am confident. I know that there will be a lot of instances when certain decisions will be questioned - but hey, I can stand up for myself. RIGHT? These and a lot of other self-destructing, self-doubting tags of war happening in my brain. I miss my mentor in the Philippines. The one who taught me the foundation of being a leader. The one who established and honed my work ethic. No one helped me process my thoughts and emotions like that mentor. But well, life goes on right? I must navigate this tricky "sister" role with patience and with an open mind.
Fast forward to today, I was assigned to work in the smaller recovery area with only 4 beds, and 2 theatre lists running. I was only bank today so I decided to come in at 9am and finish at 20:00. As I was walking in, I was met with 2 theatre staff asking me for pillows (yes, pillows, as in the thin white ones provided by the government, guys). Rolling eyes emoji. (For christ sake, I am a sister - it feels pathetic to actually be met early in the morning and be asked to look for pillows). I wasn't even able to blurt that ugly thought in my head, as in that one in parentheses you just read prior to this sentence, and I was told again, "sister, you are the team leader today, we don't have pillows"
Now, you should know that the small recovery we have is not open during weekends, so every Monday, whoever is assigned to do a shift there needs to do a general cleaning of the unit. This means all the trolleys in the 4 bays need to be thoroughly cleaned and refilled. Each article in the 5-drawer trolley needs to come out and be checked for expiry dates. This and other machine checks are essential to maintain an environment safe for the patient to recover after surgery.
At 09:15, we were yet to start with the cleaning and checking, and 2 theatre staff were asking us for trolleys and pillows. I was fuming. But, I promised to be calm so I did. I did not respond to anyone and carried on. After the clean-up, I told 2 of the other recovery staff that I am going out to look for pillows. And because I am favoured by the gods, as soon as I walked past the main corridor, a cage of pillows was at the corner waiting for me. But seriously, if those 2 staff walked 10 more steps from recovery, they would have seen that cage full of the very things more important than my safety checks.
Rolling eyes emoji x 5.
This story extends longer than what I shared above. Unfortunately, several events, banter, and perhaps some relevant escalation which I will not bore you with keep piling up until 14:00 today. You would be surprised how trolleys and pillows have become the main characters of my recovery stint. Ha! Funny not funny.
I feel beat up.
Ps. This is actually a funny story. I hope you get the humour. So please don't come for me telling me that being a sister means being humble and being able to resolve issues like trolleys and pillows cos I get it. This is just me spilling some guiltless rants cos I need a good outlet for my frustration.
Thanks for indulging me.
xx J
