Thé Résidence Inn by Marriott has a modern youthful flavour and a bit of a hostel atmosphere. I wanted to have the hotel do my laundry and the lovely girl at reception showed me where the washing machines are. In our room we have a kitchen. We have breakfast each day which is not as sumptuous as the Hilton but pretty standard with sausages and eggs and the hash browns we like but associated with A&W. Uptempo place with wall to wall window and light.
Right behind the Residence is the entrance to the M&S (Marks and Spencers) Food Hall and that leads to their clothing store proper. Laura says we had M&S decades back in Canada when she was raising her babies. « They were known as a department store with specials. We all bought their children’s underwear for instance because it was the best made. They had specialty teas too. I really liked it. »
I’d known it when I lived in London England and here it is, the food hall like Vancouver’s Meinhoff and the clothing store somewhere between Hudson’s Bay and Sears.
On Saturday night after we checked in we took a walk around the neighbourhood looking for a restaurant only to find that there was only a steakhouse nearby with lots of young people noise and drunk loud. There were lots of fast food places Taco Bell, Domino Pizza and such but nothing particularly appealing, Laura was tired with the walking and we’d not eaten that day. Due to Covid the first class meal on the train was cancelled so we headed back to the room to order in pizza.
« What is your address, » he asked.
« I’m staying at the Residence Inn, » I answered.
« But I need an address, » he said.
But I could’t find any stationary and it’s always a hassle to look up something on Safari while talking on the phone. I was peckish. I said thank you and hung up.
« I ‘lol go find us some food, » I said .
« Everything’s closed. » she said, sounding defeated.
« I’ll find something. » I said, a little irritated that she doubted my capacity to find food. I’m a hunter, It’s a city. I could kill something to eat in the country. Women, I thought.
Right next door, I found the M&S Food store and knowing I had a Credit card and a wallet it was as good as if I had my rifle,
I proceeded to randomly fill my basket with ‘stuff’. I had Scottish bread and butter, lots of choices for microwave dishes specially made each day, so some chicken and cheeses and cold cuts and drinks and hodge lodge. We were going to be here a week. I’m always stockpiling for camping expeditions and very quickly had a supply of gourmet meal fixing. I really liked the quality of food offered but found the organization ‘odd » . The same occurred when I was in Saipan where the food in food stores is excellent but the mustard might be with the jams rather than the sauces. Having remembered the coffee, though we later found a large supply in the room hidden in a special drawer under a box where the kettle sat, I had to ask where the milk was. I had a haul, 80 ponds stirling and quite frankly thought the prices for not that dissimilar to Canada in part. I remembered when I was last in London a decade back that the food costs were so much higher than Canada. Inflation in Canada and rising cost of living have brought us closer to the UK it seemed.
« Me, big hunter » I returned to the room with a bouquet of roses as well.
We microwaved the breaded chicken with the buttered Scottish bread and had a veritable cozy feast in the room. Cokes and ‘bonbons’ to end the meal. A lovely evening. It had started off poorly which confirmed that travel days are stressful and it’s best to not expect much
Yesterday was a wonderful day . At least till the evening.
St. Machar’s Church experience, the service and worship all so wonderful.
We walked about Aberdeen University campus and I felt grief at not teaching as I’d hoped. The fall out of being a whistle blower at the University. The head of Psychiatry at the time caused an unnecessary death by a poor judgement but literally tried to blame it on me going to the extend of destroying the records which showed he’d given the order that lead to the young man’s death. Indeed all would have been well if he ‘d just done nothing. Death’s occur. Clinical error. But it was a drug study and he tried to absolve himself and the drug by saying that « We’ve had a death due to Dr. Hay’s poor clinical judgement and wrong clinical order. ».
Upon being informed of the death I’d gone and made a copy of the chart and my notes and the order by him.
I presented the ‘evidence’ to the head of the hospital and it was damming. I believe he was an alcoholic. They are prone to blaming , I don’t take well to being falsely accused. It’s been a lifelong aversion.
Well, he lost his position as head of division and I could well have continued but it turned out that he’d been up to a lot of other no good, falsifying research for one, and the other doctors had turned a blind eye. It further turned out that there was all manner of politics and I was kind of expected by some to ‘fall on my sword’ for the head. ‘Take one for the team. » « He’s a good man and you shouldn’t have faulted him ». « You’re not a ‘team player’. I was fucking accused of bad clinical judgement and killing a bloke so ‘no’, My go to position of ‘go fuck yourself’ kicked in and I left that university, Back to the country where the ‘greatest need ‘ for clinicians existed.
I had wanted to be a professor. I’d started as an assistant professor and clinical lecturer and wanted to be a professor, have the glory and in old age teach. I wrote a few papers and later in life published a book on clinical perspectives , not a very good book but one that was to be my shoe in. I’ve another on the way that I believe I’ll like more.
Walking about the campus I had that old nostalgia and self pity . The ‘dream’ wasn’t reality. The university is no longer the ‘place of higher learning’. The fiasco in Canada with Dr. Jordan Peterson and political correctness, mediocrity and mob Marxism would have made my life hell. I had enough trouble with psychopaths screaming they were offended because I used the ‘fuck’ words and the incompetent authorities believing that psychopaths wouldn’t retaliate if I didn’t use the ‘fuck’ word. I identified and diagnosed two dozen malingerers, a dozen pedophiles , an worked with the dangerously insane, specialized in borderline personality and addiction,. Fuck you administration. The best doctors I knew worked in the front lines with the most difficult patients. The clever clinicians surrounded them self with ‘dependent personality disorders’ and the ‘worried well’ or gave the addicts what they wanted or avoided addicts and borderlines and psychopaths. I was crazy . I did the heavy lifting. I think a lot of it was out of spite.
« Nobody has ever faulted your clinical ability. » the head of psychiatry said.
In the end two heads of family medicine, the head of pychiatry and head of neurology and head of internal medicine were referring patients to me and I was seeing the children of colleagues. I’ve still got a tendency to swear and after years of theological training was delighted to see that Jesus was faulted for rough language. It’s akin to saying a person is fat when you’ve nothing better to fault them force. An ‘ad hominen’. My favourite was ‘Dr Hay is a genius but he swears. ».
I am now a dinosaur. Increasingly the idea of ‘curing someone’ was left behind as a model of ‘perpetual illness’ took over. Even the university began to demand more money as they hit on the educated saying their ‘degrees’ only had a 10 year life expectancy. Bic Lightter degrees and a whole industry of continuing medical education driven not by meritocracy and kill but rather brand and marketting.
I survived. Walking about the University I had waves of nostalgia and lost dreams. I thought too I missed my youth when there was respect for elders and I remember learning my old professors. I was moved to return to academia in Oxford where the old professor was approached by the students and he passed on his wisdom. I was blessed to learn from course and many dinners with the chancellor, Dr. Houston. I envied his writing books en the morning and teaching a course or two each day. When I was in Ethiopia and walked about the university there I imagined a teaching and writing position. I’m a wealth of clinical experience and have multiple doctor degrees and here I remain still doing the lions share of work knee deep in the front lines watching ‘clinical medicine’ be bypassed for folk now adding an MBA or Law degree and literally avoiding medicine for ‘administration’. Administration and Beurocracy acre the power.
« I don’t care if you’ve seen a hundred cases of this sort, I’ve seen enough and I’m incharge’ this stupid young woman shouted at me when I corrected her treatment of a patient saving the patients life.
‘Dr. Hay does not tolerate fools well unless they are his patient’s « will indeed be the epitaph on my tomb.
Now I’m at that turning point. More of the same or a change. I find I like travel and writing and would really like to get my book done. I remember once thinking how great it would be to have a paid ‘sabbatical year’ to write, I loved writing the book but after that I didn’t much like the whole marketting process, I’d rather like being a monk. I loved sailing solo up and down the coast and across the ocean. I could languish away on my sailboat. I’ve dreamed of camping in my RV like Steinback’s ‘travels with charley’
The trouble is students don’t have ‘respect’. Society is without respect. The Culture of Narcissism is upon us.
I really hope that God shows me. Up to Covid I felt I was on God’s plan but since covid , the last 2 years, I’ve just been ‘carrying on’. I imagine I could do that another year. I’m thinking everything is okay and another year of clinical work with a trip sough in winter might work for the coming year. So many of my colleagues retired in the last couple of years. The stress was overwhelming. Now I don’t know,. This holiday has already made me feel human. I ‘ve rarely thought of holidays as such. Mostly I see them as R&R , stepping back from the front. My vacations are ‘medicinal’.
I remember when I was young and at the university we’d have a month of vacation and two weeks of education paid leave and I really felt like the holidays were ‘summer vacation’. For many years I’ve felt like I go away to camp or fish or sail to restore my saniety from the constant attacks and absurdity. It’s medicinal leave. I never feel anyone appreciates how working with psychiatric and addictive patients is day in day out. So many are enjoyable especially as you get beyond the acute phases and treat the person for the underlying anxieties. But it’s so much more stressful than fanily medicine was. I used to consider psychiatric patients the most challenging and went into the field because the patients were the ‘most diffiult’ and most sick. The great mysteries. Now I’m worn down. Some are such ‘soul suckers’. The personality disorders with successful secondary gain from their bullying behaviours. Of course they’re sick. Everyone is sick, But the psychopaths and sociopaths really ‘get under your skin’ unlike the schizophrenics and manic depressives. The College of Physicians and Surgeons identifies with psychopaths and sociopaths and défends them and empowers them and literally destroys them and the doctors who serve them I’ve enjoyed transforming personality disorders taking their negative characteristics and helping them find a way to use these ‘coping mechansms’ in a positive way. It was all a good run and I did well. There’s no gold watch and there are no replacements for me and my kind. We’re being replaced by 10 week trained wonders and one shoe fits all government factory modes. Meanwhile I could have taken the million dollar offers to work in the strictly private groups with the wealthy solely and I would have had all the accessories and fame but for some strange reason I stayed with those with what I somehow thought had the ‘greatest need’. I admire my friend who was the ‘doctor to the queen’ so to speak, not only a brilliant clinician but far more diplomatic than I’ll ever be. He’s dead today and I believe he’d have lived longer if he said the work ‘fuck ‘. More.
I’m thinking of renting a car today. Laura would like a day of rest . I can tell. She’d like to write post cards.
i went to a meeting last night. Confirmed it was one. Paid 15 lbs stirling to a taxi to get me there and no one was there. I was then unable to get a cab back as the cab said they didn’t go out there. The buses didn’t seem to run. I was on a street in the dark in a strange city and I became anxious. I walked to Coult Hotel and was really thankful the waitress took pity on me « Yes that’s that cab company, useless, try this one, ». I called the other company and the lady said I’d have a ride in a half hour. The waitress offered me a coffee while I waited and was just so kind. The taxi came and I left some money and I got home.
I don’t like being out at night anymore. I used to think I could defend myself. But I don’t anymore. I feel vulnerable. My back and feet hurt. I don’t believe I could disable a person with a punch or kick. I’ve done that in the past, fought off a group of assailants and out run pursuers. I don’t like night in strange cities and I’m afraid.
Laura says it’s wisdom. I don’t like it
But I loved the room last night
Laura made us a sandwich and I liked being home reading.
Today I’ll rent a car if I can, I’ve plans to do the gallery and museum but it’s sunny and I’d like to see the castles.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment