Years on, as I progress from job to job and organization to organization (in the way normal people do, not the way job-hoppers do), I would have a “first day on the job” at each place. But there is only one first day of my career – today. Perhaps one day, I would be so exhausted from my job and that I would no longer remember my sense of achievement and excitement at graduating after 4 years of study… and for that day, I will document my first day at work to remind me…
Greatest change was status; I’ve out-grown my student status and am now a full-fledged therapist. Even the welcome I received was so different, I’m taken by surprise. I step into the OT department of the hospital 10mins early and I catch my colleagues-to-be in the midst of their morning routines: tidying files, changing into their uniform, making coffee. They walk pass, they look at me, they stop, and they smile and say “You must be Mae. Pleased to meet you and welcome.” 4years as a student, 8 placements altogether, the only therapists that know my name BEFORE I arrive are the ones that had been assigned to supervise me.
First 2 hours, I sit through a ward meeting. First day of the job in a ward meeting is
good because you get to meet the whole team. First day of the job in a ward meeting is
bad because they discuss each and every patient in detail – and every single bit of these information such as medical condition, social situation and goal, fly over the top of my head. A physiotherapy student sits next to his supervisor and offers his opinion of the patients he has seen. I sit silent throughout. I catch him glancing my way a few times. I think he’s wondering why on earth I am so unlucky to start my placement on a Friday.
I still wore my student uniform today – the trousers are the same for students and therapists alike, only that the top has the name of the university – because my uniform wasn’t ready yet. When the phone on the ward rang and I answered it with “Hello, ward xx, OT speaking”, the student physiotherapist raised his eyebrow and shot a glance my way. I can almost see the thought bubble forming above his head “What nerve!”.
Next, I’m brought on a “tour” and introduced to the staff on the ward.
The expression on the face of the physio student when he hears that I’m a bonafide therapist in a student’s disguise is priceless. *evil laugh* (ok, he's a nice person, I was just having a bit of fun on my first day at work.) Anyway, the welcome is warm and I feel like I belong in the friendly gang that call themselves the “multidisciplinary team”.
I no longer have to sign off as “OT student” – a cumbersome thing to write when one is signing 15 sets of documentation a day. Instead, I simply sign off as “OT”. Several times during the day, I catch myself almost going up to the senior therapist I work with to ask her to “countersign” my documentation - almost. I am given my own desk (woohoo~!), my own appointment diary, I have keys to my own locker and I even have my own “annual leave” card (I am entitled to 8 days annual leave for the 3 months that I work).
I feel very grown up.A nurse is cornered by a patient’s unhappy son. He has just been informed that his mother will have a home visit done by the occupational therapist on Wednesday and if she is assessed to be safe at home, she may be discharged on Friday. He opines loudly that such an arrangement is not satisfactory. He wants the home visit to be done on Monday, for a reason that I cannot disclose here. The nurse fails to placate him and eventually says “You’ll have to speak to the OT because she will be the one doing the home visit. It depends if she can do it on Monday”.
I bet you can guess what she says next. But it catches me completely by surprise. People say you have to be thrown into the deep end of the pool to learn. But nobody ever talks about the ones who sink underwater… and never surface. Others talk about hitting the ground running. Again, nobody mentions falling flat on your face. I guess either way, the person is dead or has a serious facial injury and is unable to say much about their unsuccessful learning experience.
“Mae? Perhaps you would like to talk to this gentleman about the home visit planned for his mother?” the nurse says. With this statement, my safety blanket in the form of my “student uniform” has been ripped apart and I suddenly wonder why I was so eager to shed my student status. I am instantly reminded of previous patients I’ve seen who act up a day or two before their discharge date so that they have to be “kept for observation” for a longer time. These patients are suddenly “depressed and suicidal” again, elderly patients suddenly insist that they fell on the way to the toilet and are therefore not safe to go home. I can understand the panic they feel now, of being “let loose” into a world where nothing is certain or within their control; It’s safer being in hospital. It’s safer being a student.
“This gentleman” gives me a steely stare. “This gentleman” is 60 odd years old and “this gentleman” would like to discuss his 90-year old mother with me.
Suddenly, I don’t feel grown up at all.
I smile while I try to think of the most pleasant way to say “What do you expect me to say about a lady whom I’ve never clapped eyes upon and whose existence I only know about because I heard her name for the first time in my life in a meeting an hour ago?”
2seconds is about the longest you can smile for at an angry man. After that, you better have a way to make him less angry, or to escape.
“I’m sorry but I’m not familiar with your mother’s case. If you would wait 5mins, I’d get you mother’s therapist to speak with you?”
Perhaps what I said was not 100% ethical. The first sentence is true. The second is not technically correct because as of today, I *ahem* was his mother’s therapist. But somehow, I didn’t think “I’d get your mother’s ex-therapist to speak with you” sounded quite the same. Regardless, it is still more ethical than giving my “professional opinion” on a patient I know nothing about (ok, fine, I know the patient’s name and age, but that’s not very helpful is it?)
The first day was indeed exciting, strange – as I tried to adjust to the change in autonomy - but also humbling… as I am constantly reminded that the end of the student phase in no way means the end of education…
Steamy Steamboat!
The "teacher"
Elli at the nicest bit of the Temperate House.
Who knew that ferns could be so pretty?
An ascending spiral of roses of assorted colours...
