Chapters (70)
- COVER PAGE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- DEDICATION
- PROLOGUE
- PART I BIRTH
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- PART II LIFE
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- PART III DEATH
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The general public is under the impression that doctors make exorbitant amounts of money. That might have been true back in the day, but not for our generation. Even if I pass the surgical primary exam, there’s no guarantee I’ll get onto the training program. Realising this, the government and the surgical colleges have created a system of ‘unaccredited registrars’. This means you can do the job, but you’re not on the program and there’s no guarantee you’ll ever make it. In fact, a lot of people we know are in this unfortunate predicament: they’re working as surgical registrars but don’t have the ticket to allow them to progress to being a consultant. This means years of being on call, working night shift, being shipped out to the middle of nowhere on a fairly paltry government wage, all without any kind of security for the future.
After our year as interns, my friends and I will spend another year in the hospital as residents, but then we’ll all be under pressure to decide which path we want to take: physician, surgeon, GP—whatever we decide, it will involve expensive exams and arduous training requirements, often far from Sydney.
No wonder I don’t have a personal life to speak of, I think to myself. I don’t even know where I’ll be in a year, let alone three. It’s a bit hard to start planning a future when I can’t even take a lease beyond six months and all my money is going towards exams I don’t even know if I’ll pass, all to apply for a training program I have no guarantee of being allowed onto.
‘At least you’re not relieving on neurosurgery like Kitty,’ Estelle points out. ‘I can’t believe you’ve still got another few weeks with those people.’
‘Lucky I had the week away,’ I point out. ‘Even small reprieves are a blessing.’
Rather regrettably, before starting my internship I requested as many surgical terms as possible. Knowing that I had an interest in neurosurgery, admin kindly assigned me to that department for my relief month, which is a period when interns cover for doctors who are going on leave. I was thrilled to pieces by this initially, but all this means to me now is an extra month with the Joker and the Smiling Assassin when I could have just helped fill in on respiratory or something equally painless.
My next term after relief is emergency, which will be hard and tiring, and I wish even more that I’d used this month to take it easy. Hindsight is always such a powerful kick in the teeth.
‘At least I’ll get to see Dr Prince,’ I say, trying to find the silver lining.