Yesterday was the start of my two week block of student-selected component (SSC), knowing me and my weird likings, I chose to do two weeks of the eye. When Max and I turned up at Royal Free, we met our consultant, Mr. A. We did not have a clue what we were meant to be doing for the next two weeks, especially when our assessment was just meant to be attendance, so we technically need to know what we need to attend so that we can actually attend it, right?
As it turns out, Mr. A had no clue either and being the laidback do-whatever-you-fancy kind of surgeon, his answer to our question of what we were meant to be doing for the next two weeks was "I guess if you are under me, you are meant to follow me. Whatever I do, you do. Basically, stalk me." He then proceeded to give us instructions on how to stalk him, meaning times and places where he supposedly will be - and hence, where we will be.
He told us to go to the Whit on Monday afternoon to attend some ocularplastic clinics, which I had completely no idea what ocularplastics was and it turned out to be just eye surgery which kind of touched more on the plastic surgery part of the eye, not so much eye diseases. Max cycled from Hampstead to Archway in the rain while I popped onto Rod's beloved C11 and barely made it in time for the clinic and the best part of it was - wait for it - Mr. A wasn't even there! So much for stalking him. Ocularplastics seemed kind of boring and I spent most of the afternoon helping the lady doctor transport her patients from wheelchairs to the consultation chair. It got really boring by 5 and the clinic didn't look like it was ending any time soon so Max and I made some lousy excuse and got ourselves out of there.
Today, the stalking continued as we waited for Mr. A to turn up for his clinic at the Whit. We were beginning to suspect that we had been sent on another wild goose chase but he eventually turned up. The chair for the patients at the clinic was incredibly wobbly and we spent a good half of the clinic trying to solve the wobbly chair situation and preparing to catch patients who could not keep balance (which proved quite tricky especially since many of his patients were obese diabetics on wheelchairs with an average age of 90 years old).
We went to surgery in the afternoon and witnessed the power of Mr. A and instantly realised how he can get away being the way he is. He had an average time of 15 minutes per cataract operation. 15 minutes! Swift, sleek, steadypompeepee. It is ridiculous. It took the registrar an hour to complete the same procedure. Madness. Oh, the operating theatre was so high tech, it was like a huge computer game. While Mr. A was using both hands for the surgery, his left foot was placed on what looked like a game console remote control box with a joystick to control the direction of the microscope camera that he was looking through and the right foot was stepping on this pedal that controlled the equipment on his hands. It looked so fun, but also looked like it requires a lot of hand-eye-foot coordination which I seriously lack. My brain and my feet are totally not connected, it makes me sad.
8am start tomorrow at the baby care unit, let the stalking begin.
As it turns out, Mr. A had no clue either and being the laidback do-whatever-you-fancy kind of surgeon, his answer to our question of what we were meant to be doing for the next two weeks was "I guess if you are under me, you are meant to follow me. Whatever I do, you do. Basically, stalk me." He then proceeded to give us instructions on how to stalk him, meaning times and places where he supposedly will be - and hence, where we will be.
He told us to go to the Whit on Monday afternoon to attend some ocularplastic clinics, which I had completely no idea what ocularplastics was and it turned out to be just eye surgery which kind of touched more on the plastic surgery part of the eye, not so much eye diseases. Max cycled from Hampstead to Archway in the rain while I popped onto Rod's beloved C11 and barely made it in time for the clinic and the best part of it was - wait for it - Mr. A wasn't even there! So much for stalking him. Ocularplastics seemed kind of boring and I spent most of the afternoon helping the lady doctor transport her patients from wheelchairs to the consultation chair. It got really boring by 5 and the clinic didn't look like it was ending any time soon so Max and I made some lousy excuse and got ourselves out of there.
Today, the stalking continued as we waited for Mr. A to turn up for his clinic at the Whit. We were beginning to suspect that we had been sent on another wild goose chase but he eventually turned up. The chair for the patients at the clinic was incredibly wobbly and we spent a good half of the clinic trying to solve the wobbly chair situation and preparing to catch patients who could not keep balance (which proved quite tricky especially since many of his patients were obese diabetics on wheelchairs with an average age of 90 years old).
We went to surgery in the afternoon and witnessed the power of Mr. A and instantly realised how he can get away being the way he is. He had an average time of 15 minutes per cataract operation. 15 minutes! Swift, sleek, steadypompeepee. It is ridiculous. It took the registrar an hour to complete the same procedure. Madness. Oh, the operating theatre was so high tech, it was like a huge computer game. While Mr. A was using both hands for the surgery, his left foot was placed on what looked like a game console remote control box with a joystick to control the direction of the microscope camera that he was looking through and the right foot was stepping on this pedal that controlled the equipment on his hands. It looked so fun, but also looked like it requires a lot of hand-eye-foot coordination which I seriously lack. My brain and my feet are totally not connected, it makes me sad.
8am start tomorrow at the baby care unit, let the stalking begin.
hamburgered at
9:51 PM
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