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the one skill I am most grateful for is knowing how essential it is to know your teammates and
invest in the people on your side. Farfetched as it may sound, perhaps harmonizing with the
other altos was what lay the foundations for working in harmony with my resuscitation team
years later.
I wish I could tell you that my years at the English School had prepared me for life as a doctor,
but frankly, I don’t think anything can: consoling a mother whose newborn died without ever
leaving hospital; running to an emergency call to discover the cardiac surgery patient has de-
teriorated and his chest has been cracked open in the middle of the ward; listening to a young
adult calmly describe how they have planned to kill themselves; getting a phone call from a
consultant surgeon saying ‘finish whatever your are doing. An emergency is being prepped,
meet me in theatres in five’. But also the tears of joy after the complicated delivery of twin
boys in the middle of the night and after getting a visit from a young man who had been in a
coma after he wakes up and returns to leading a normal life. Once you’ve been yelled at, uri-
nated and vomited upon, and chased around the ward by the psychotic patient, you learn that
nothing can prepare you for this. But you can learn to walk to work everyday with your head
confidently held high, and thankfully, every little helps. Sometimes, I do wonder what life might
have been like if I’d chosen a ‘normal’ job, one that would occasionally allowme to spend Christ-
mases and Easters with my family - but then I get to do something truly awesome, like drive
halfway across the country in the middle of the night to retrieve transplant organs or design se-
quences for a vaccine, and then all my lingering doubts disappear. That is, until the next run of
night shifts.
Back on the ward, the curly-haired lady’s mother astonished us all by pulling through. We had
withdrawn all active treatment and offered pain relief only. But instead of slipping away, she
woke up, slowly started to heal, and a few days later was discharged from hospital. An unex-
pected triumph, reminding me of the sweet omnipotence of life. Up on the intensive care unit,
the lady whose heart we restarted was also on the mend. She was now breathing for herself
and soon we were counting days down to her discharge. I couldn’t wait to see the lady whose
organs I had kept perfused with my hands while her heart had stopped beating walk back to the
world.
But both wins were shortlived. Both ladies passed away within the next few days. Like Wagner,
life in hospital can sometimes be plain vulgar. But onwards and upwards we must go. The pa-
tient in the next cubicle needs not be burdened with our struggles. In Medicine, like in life, the
show must always go on. And so I sigh, smile, draw the curtains back and walk into what has
now become my stage.
Photos:
Top - Charis dressed as a futuristic nurse for
the hospital pantomime in 2008
Bottom le : Playing Bassoon in the school
Christmas Concert 2004
Bottom Right: Charis played ‘Beauty School
Dropout’ Frenchie in the 2005 school pro-
duction of the musical “Grease”
Elen
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