On Monday I was meant to return to my normal timetable, after a week of those unwelcome snow interruptions. As it was, that didn’t happen. Instead, I was lucky enough to be selected to attend the opening of a ‘clinical skills centre’, on the basis that this would be helpful because I want to be a doctor. As does half of the year, apparently. Nonetheless, my name was picked out of the metaphorical hat, and I was on my way.
So after Chemistry, my doctor-to-be friends and I slipped our way across the icy streets to the Children’s hospital.
Well, Starbucks for a gingerbread latte (<3) and then the hospital.
WELL, Spar for minstrels and Pringles, Starbucks and then the hospital.
After ingesting an unhealthy amount of sugar and caffeine, we finally tried to enter the building. We left Starbucks, crossed the road, walked around the hospital, asked for directions, walked back to Starbucks, and entered via the door opposite.
Luckily, we managed to navigate the remainder of the journey by ourselves (which was just along a corridor and up a lift...) and we were greeted by staff with biscuits. It turned out that this new ‘clinical skills centre’ was a teaching place for, well, clinical skills. That is, learning how to treat patients without using real people, instead using amazing plastic mannequins.
To start with, we were shown into a room with a plastic baby on a bed/table thing. Now, I don’t usually like children. As Jasmine would say, I’m not a child person. But I am a PLASTIC CHILD PERSON. This baby was cuter than those real ones, with their SICK, and their NOISE, and their various other problems. With this baby, you could make it be quiet! You could even kill it if you wanted, without any kind of negative legal consequences. And so there I was, feeling the pulse in my new favourite infant, when this photographer decides it’s a great photo opportunity. And this photographer had a BEARD, and was therefore a creepy photographer.
So I was forced to crouch beside this table/bed, pretending to listen to this very friendly nurse while still feeling this plastic child’s pulse, which let me tell you, was growing boring, for a good 5 minutes.
After finally being allowed to move, we were moved into a different room, where we were allowed to drill a plastic bone and try and move polos about in a plastic body with little grabber things. I aced the polo moving game. Finally, we were shown another, even cuter, baby (WHICH TURNED BLUE). If I ever have a child, I want to be able to turn it blue, JUST like that one.
We even managed to return back to school without missing biology. I don’t know about you, but that’s what I call a good day.
So after Chemistry, my doctor-to-be friends and I slipped our way across the icy streets to the Children’s hospital.
Well, Starbucks for a gingerbread latte (<3) and then the hospital.
WELL, Spar for minstrels and Pringles, Starbucks and then the hospital.
After ingesting an unhealthy amount of sugar and caffeine, we finally tried to enter the building. We left Starbucks, crossed the road, walked around the hospital, asked for directions, walked back to Starbucks, and entered via the door opposite.
Luckily, we managed to navigate the remainder of the journey by ourselves (which was just along a corridor and up a lift...) and we were greeted by staff with biscuits. It turned out that this new ‘clinical skills centre’ was a teaching place for, well, clinical skills. That is, learning how to treat patients without using real people, instead using amazing plastic mannequins.
To start with, we were shown into a room with a plastic baby on a bed/table thing. Now, I don’t usually like children. As Jasmine would say, I’m not a child person. But I am a PLASTIC CHILD PERSON. This baby was cuter than those real ones, with their SICK, and their NOISE, and their various other problems. With this baby, you could make it be quiet! You could even kill it if you wanted, without any kind of negative legal consequences. And so there I was, feeling the pulse in my new favourite infant, when this photographer decides it’s a great photo opportunity. And this photographer had a BEARD, and was therefore a creepy photographer.
So I was forced to crouch beside this table/bed, pretending to listen to this very friendly nurse while still feeling this plastic child’s pulse, which let me tell you, was growing boring, for a good 5 minutes.
After finally being allowed to move, we were moved into a different room, where we were allowed to drill a plastic bone and try and move polos about in a plastic body with little grabber things. I aced the polo moving game. Finally, we were shown another, even cuter, baby (WHICH TURNED BLUE). If I ever have a child, I want to be able to turn it blue, JUST like that one.
We even managed to return back to school without missing biology. I don’t know about you, but that’s what I call a good day.
VIC x
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