me, my hip and i

o8.10h and I’ve been at work for over an hour. In theory I was meant to get up at 05.45h so I could have the hot bath that helps me to move first thing but I was having this really good dream where I was in the pub with my best friend and my god-daughter and I was proudly wearing a nurse’s uniform which was an adult-sized version of those thin, scratchy ones you get for kids. With me I had another uniform, in a suit bag; I was pointing out the long sleeve and covered buttons to my friend and saying, ‘This one’s for when I’m Sister!’

You may laugh, but bizarrely enough I do actually have a job interview for the post of Ward Sister tomorrow. Those of you who are familiar with the Carry On  films will have an idea of how my brain is imagining my potential promotion: Lots of ‘Ooh, Matron!’ moments, plenty of scrapes involving hiding lost goats in the sluice and escapees running wild in the community with axes. Well, hopefully not the last one. Things like that look very bad in The Daily Mail.

So yes, job interview. I decided not to tick the ‘do you have a disability?’ box when I did the online application, because if I take enough pain killers and just grit my teeth, I’m fine. I’m fairly certain the drugs don’t affect my judgement, which renders me safe to be dishing them out to other people. There’s an old operating theatre stool in our clinical room which I sit on behind the hatch when I dispense the patient’s medication. It makes me a bit short, but it helps. I suspect at some point very soon I’m going to have to see the Occupational Health people and get some kind of risk assessment done on my ability to work et cetera. Boring but necessary, I suppose.