Tales From A Hard-Faced Bitch

So Jenny was supposed to come back to work yesterday after her five weeks away. Five weeks in which I have worked bloody hard trying to keep on top of everything (and failing miserably). You see, quite apart from the fact that there aren't enough hours in the working day for me to do my job comfortably, I have been trying to keep on top of her work too, plus train our new junior medical secretary. I've done my best, but at best I've only done a half-arsed job. It's difficult, you see, when the phone rings constantly and the world and his dog are demanding of my time.



So yeah, I get to work expecting her to be back, but she wasn't. Her youngest son (who is in his 30s) is ill and has been admitted to our hospital. Yes, I'm a hard faced bitch ... but given that she is not spending every moment at his bedside, what possible reason is there for her to not come to work? Honestly, yes, I know she's obviously very worried about him, and I do sympathise because of course I would be devastated if one of my boys was ill, but surely being at work would be the best thing for her because she could pop across to the main site to see him a couple of times during the day. And you know, yes a lot of my thoughts here come from the fact that I just cannot cope with the workload and am very angry that I am just expected to trudge on with it all for another God knows how many weeks ... but I really do sympathise. When Ethan was a baby, Colin was hospitalised for four very long weeks with severe head pain and deafness. They thought he might have an acoustic neuroma, but in the end discharged him (after four long weeks of tests) without a definitive diagnosis. He's never had the pain at that severity again, but he he has been left virtually deaf on one side with constant tinnitus. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that, of course I was desperately worried when this happened, but I still turned up for work every day (apart from the day when he was admitted, cos I took him in), and still had to deal with the kids - driving all the way across town after work every day to pick the kids up from nursery/school, then driving all the way back across town to the hospital that he was in to visit him, etc etc. I did it for a whole month (we visited EVERY day) and wouldn't have dreamed of not turning up for work (and I would have been expected to turn up too). So there you go, worry is apparently a good enough reason to not come to work. She's not planning on coming back until next week at the earliest.

So the reality of it all is, I just cannot cope. I am exhausted, depressed, stressed and on the verge of tears all the time at work. Phil was really cross with me today because he had left an urgent appointment on my desk to be booked, and either I or someone else had dumped a load of stuff on top of it, and consequently I missed it (almost every square inch of desk is stacked high with paperwork and things I need to do). It was only because I felt this morning that I couldn't try to get anything done until I had cleared some space on my desk that I found it. Of course I took it straight in to Phil to confess, and he was not pleased at all. I just said 'I can't do everything, Phil, I'm doing my best', but obviously it seems that my best is just not good enough. The really stupid thing is, there are people around me that can see how much pressure I am under (one of my doctors keeps apologising for bothering me with anything, and even the ladies on the League of Friends kiosk said only today how tired and weary I was looking), but it seems that other people don't care.

Doing my best: our junior medical secretary needs a lot of support. I really don't mind, she's very keen and enthusiastic and she's doing well, but it does take a lot of time to go over letters for her to check that they are okay, or to help her deal with telephone messages, and in the meantime my work is still there waiting, along with the bits that Jenny is supposed to do when she comes back (booking all of Phil's appointments, typing his letters, dealing with queries etc). I just can't do it. Mum said I should refuse to take Jenny's phone calls while she's not here (Anna only works three days a week), but I can't do that, because sometimes the calls are urgent. Anyway, the upshot of it all is that I have spent the last two days virtually in tears, both in anger at my inability to cope and get on top of everything, and at them for expecting me to cope.

I'm wallowing in self pity I know, but I am sinking fast. Let me give you an example of how crazy it is. We have a photocopier in our department, and because of politics (long story which I won't relate now) we have an access code on it. I changed the code last week because people that had no right to the code had been given it. This is no lie, I was SAT ON THE TOILET this afternoon, when someone hammered on the door 'Kate, are you in there? I need the code for the photocopier!' ... seriously, I can't even take a piss in peace.

Tomorrow night we're supposed to go on our annual departmental Christmas night out - we're going to a nice restaurant and I had been looking forward to it. But the events of the last few days have left me feeling so bad, that I think I might boycott it. Would anyone notice, or even care? Doubt it somehow. Don't know. We'll see.

Anyway, rant over. I'm sorry if I come off as a hard faced bitch, but I feel like I'm at the end of my tether.

In knitting news, I am knitting an experimental scarf as a Christmas present. It's my own design, and while it's not at all mind bogglingly exciting or radical, it's a start.