I have one semester left for my doctorate, and then the hard slog of the Internship starts. Both Mum and Dad were here before me, it’s a natural fit. They anticipate me joining their practice. To be honest I have never considered any other career options.
Uni hasn’t been too taxing; a lot of friends on the same medical course, great parties, camping trips, a few special mates. There has been a bit of weed shared around, several monumental hangovers – I so like that sparkling tipple. But yes, at twenty-five, I am looking forward to settling into the hard grind of the next couple of years.
I have accepted an Internship at St Vincent’s Hospital and my Paddington flat will mean I can cycle to work in the daylight, or easily Uber home after a night shift. Things look to be working out.
I meet a cool guy at the Union during the last few months. We click – Luca’s almost finished his Social Work, although he sometimes confides that he is unsure if his degree is the right fit. We party hard, a lot of laughs: we snorted coke together, my first.
St Vinnies is demanding, more than expected. The occasional double shifts are exhausting; fifteen hours straight and then a daytime, fitful sleep. Luca, and the coke help me relax, some rest before the next shift. My enthusiasm is being sorely tested.
I cop a bollocking from the Director of Nursing after I blow a shift; she isn’t interested in my explanation of the four double shifts, and I don’t tell her about the South Coast party! What a crowd. Luca had a surprise and thinking back, I met the Devil that weekend. The Dragon, Skag, Smack, China White – a syringe by any other name -could be so sweet!
Funds are sometimes strained: I have the idea of using my script pad. It is mine; nobody will ever know. It takes five scripts for the cops to arrive.
I am now a resident at Long Bay, for a stretch of reformation. No more treats, although they do give me Naloxone, to handle the withdrawals.
But Long Bay is my saviour. Six months in: I’m clean and there’s lots of time to consider the road I am on. Mum comes in every couple of weeks. The early tears are way behind us, we talk of the future. It will not be Medicine; I’ve burnt that bridge, but she is talking of Practice Manager, as an interim, when I get out next year.
One of my mates from St Vinnies catches the bus and pops in every couple of months. She is always full of the latest doings; she confides that the Salvos brought Luca in. He was in for a few weeks, before self-discharging. He died a few weeks later – a bad batch of something!
The bloody Dragon. I still have lots of time to contemplate my relationship with that terror, to harden my resolves, my defences. I’m ready!