last day

Dinner in the city last night with oldest child and her boyfriend,at a table next to an open fire. We discussed the theoretical constructs of our favourite philosophers,the introduction of the semi-colon into written English in the early seventeenth century, and vigorously debated the comparative use of kireji and caesurae in Japanese and Latin poetry respectively. I was particularly harsh on Husserl's Phenomenology while still crediting his influence on the development of Existentialism.Then another late drive home and little sleep before waking early for theatre on my last working day before a week's holiday, my overstimulated brain still in an intellectual turmoil.

It seemed I would not escape easily: an overbooked operating list running past the start of the afternoon clinic which then ran late while I took the usual stream of Friday afternoon emergency calls augmented by those who wanted to catch me before I was unavailable for a week plus the need to review all outstanding results.I was required in clinic, casualty and labour ward at the same time, a surprisingly common quantum challenge for a gynaecologist. Labour ward comes first,then clinic, since the resident doctor can assess the outpatients with my advice while I attend to those who have been waiting four months for their appointment.Blood in the urine, minimal invasion on a cervical biopsy, three hours in the second stage of labour: phone discussion, oncology referral, forceps delivery in that order.Premature labour with rapid foetal heart rate, nine out of ten pelvic pain of unknown cause, inpatient with scan suggesting a pelvic abscess: admit, admit, already admitted - needs surgery but can't be done yet. Meanwhile clinic continues with high risk antenatal first visits, criticisms of previous care  and missing test results. There is a lot of anxiety requiring concrete responses and specific plans not just empty reassurances. Time dissolves in a shower of demands.Then it is eight pm on Friday night and I am suddenly alone in the consulting room, alone in the clinic,tired and hungry.I pack up, turn off the lights and go home.

There is no one home, no meal, no message.There is no one to share the joy of my temporary freedom. It is against my nature to place my happiness in the hands of others but I feel a little sorry for myself. Luckily there is still some leftover beetroot and fresh chili risotto which I cooked after coming home late two nights ago.Pink risotto cheers me up.Then I sit down at the computer to send my daughter photos from our meal last night where we didn't really discuss philosophy and linguistics.However, I  do genuinely struggle to see an unambiguous case for the use of the semi-colon; and I cannot stomach the turgid pedantics of Husserl's phenomenology.

Four am . Goodnight.