Running on Yesterday's Fumes

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThursday's late finish was still making itself known this morning. The alarm did its job, but my body filed a formal objection. There's a particular kind of tiredness that sits behind the eyes — not dramatic, not debilitating, just present enough to remind you that sleep is not a suggestion. Coffee helped, as it always does, though I suspect coffee gets more credit than it deserves on mornings like these.

Once I was in and moving, rounds went smoothly. The body has a way of overriding the mind's complaints when there's work to be done, a kind of professional autopilot that kicks in and carries you through until you forget you were tired in the first place. The list cooperated, the team was sharp, and everything moved with that quiet competence that makes the early hours worthwhile.

Clinic brought a couple of new patients, which always shifts the texture of a session. There's a different energy to a first meeting — more ground to cover, more listening required, the careful business of building a picture from scratch. You're assembling a person from fragments: their history, their concerns, the things they say and the things they leave out. It takes a particular kind of attention, and today I had just enough of it left in the tank.

After lunch the pace picked up properly. The kind of busy that doesn't leave room for clock-watching, which is either a blessing or a conspiracy depending on your perspective. Tasks stacked up, decisions needed making, and the afternoon compressed itself into something that felt both endless and surprisingly quick. That's the paradox of a full day — you can't believe how long it's been and yet somehow it's already time to leave.

I made it home for dinner, which after Thursday's late return felt like a minor restoration of order. Anita and I sat down together, the meal unhurried, the conversation easy. There's a particular comfort in a Friday evening meal — the week's weight beginning to lift, the weekend not yet requiring any plans or decisions. Just food and talk and the gentle unwinding of five days' worth of accumulated tension.

Afterwards, we settled in for another episode of For All Mankind. The season is building towards its finale next week, and the writers are doing that thing where every scene feels loaded with consequence. Characters you've spent years watching are being moved into positions that feel increasingly precarious. It's the kind of television that makes you sit forward slightly without realising you've done it. Next week will either be magnificent or devastating, possibly both.

An early night, then, because tomorrow demands an early start. The kind of Friday where you're already thinking about Saturday's alarm even as you're brushing your teeth. But that's fine. The week delivered what it needed to, and now it's stepping aside. Gratefully received.

A Win Carries You Further Than You Think

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There's something about starting the week on the right side of a result. United did the business last night, and I won't pretend it didn't colour everything that followed. The alarm felt less aggressive. The coffee tasted more deliberate. Even the drive in had a certain ease to it — traffic lighter than usual, the sun doing its best impression of generosity, the whole city seemingly in no rush to complicate things.

Rounds went smoothly, which is the kind of sentence that sounds unremarkable until you've lived through the alternative. Some mornings the list unravels before you've finished your first lap of the ward. Today, though, everything held together. Patients stable, plans clear, the team moving with that quiet efficiency that makes the work feel almost elegant. I'll take it.

Lunch, for once, wasn't a thing I inhaled between tasks. I actually sat down. Took my time. There's a minor rebellion in eating slowly on a weekday, a small act of defiance against the clock. The food itself was nothing extraordinary, but the pace made it feel like something worth having. A proper pause rather than a refuelling stop.

The afternoon stretched out in that way clinics tend to — patient after patient, each one their own small world of concerns and questions and histories. Long but not gruelling. There's a rhythm to it when things are flowing, a kind of conversational cadence that carries you through. A procedure at the tail end kept me focused right to the finish, but I managed to wrap up and get out with daylight still in my pocket. Home before sunset. That alone felt like a small victory.

After dinner, I caught a webinar on Heidi AI — the clinical AI scribe I've been using — featuring Alan Teh, a colleague whose opinion I tend to trust on these things. It's always interesting watching someone you know navigate the slightly performative format of an online panel. Alan handled it well, as expected. The tool itself continues to evolve in ways that are genuinely useful, and it's good to see familiar faces helping shape the conversation around it. Technology demos can be dry affairs, but when someone you respect is doing the talking, you pay closer attention.

The rest of the evening was quiet. The kind of Monday night where you're not chasing anything, just letting the day settle. The weekend's result still glowing faintly in the background, the week ahead not yet demanding anything specific. Anita and I exchanged the usual end-of-day dispatches — her day, my day, the comfortable shorthand of two people who've long since stopped needing to narrate every detail. Sometimes a Monday just works. No drama, no friction, just a day that does exactly what it promises and then politely steps aside.

Monday Wore Its Sensible Shoes

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A new week, then. Monday arrived the way it always does — without fanfare, slightly damp, carrying that particular energy of a nation collectively remembering how to set an alarm. After a long weekend, the return to routine felt less like a rude awakening and more like slipping back into a well-worn groove. The kind you don't especially love but have come to respect.

The weekend had stretched itself out generously, as long weekends tend to do. By Sunday evening it had begun to feel like borrowed time, that strange liminal space where you're technically still off but mentally already drafting tomorrow's to-do list in the shower. So when Monday morning actually materialised, there was something almost reassuring about it. Structure has its quiet charms.

And as Mondays go, this one behaved itself remarkably well. There's a certain satisfaction in a day that simply works— no crises, no loose threads unravelling at inopportune moments, just one task following another in something close to logical order. Efficient is the word, though it sounds a bit clinical. Perhaps tidy is better. The day had a tidiness to it. Everything where it ought to be, nothing left hanging.

The real triumph, if we're being honest, was walking through the front door before six. There's a version of most weekdays where that doesn't happen, where the evening is already half-spent by the time you're hanging up your coat. But today the light was still good when I got home, the kitchen still had that mid-afternoon warmth about it, and dinner came together without the usual negotiation between ambition and exhaustion. It was a proper sit-down affair. Nothing elaborate — just well-timed, well-made, and eaten at a civilised hour. The kind of meal that doesn't demand a review but quietly earns one.

The evening unfolded the way the best ones do: without a plan. Shoes off, something easy on in the background, the sofa doing its finest work. There's an art to doing very little with real commitment, and tonight I practiced it with the dedication of a seasoned professional. No guilt, no nagging sense that something productive should be happening. Just the gentle winding down of a day that had already given enough.

It occurs to me that we rarely celebrate the ordinary Monday. The one that doesn't test you, doesn't throw anything unexpected across your path, just lets you get on with it and sends you home at a reasonable hour. These are the days that hold a week together — unremarkable, perhaps, but quietly essential. The architectural equivalent of a load-bearing wall. Not glamorous, but try removing it and see what happens.

Tomorrow will bring whatever it brings. But tonight, the week is one day old and already off to a steady start. That'll do.

It's Friday

The week seem to have breezed through really fast. And it had been one of those productive week where I really got plenty done.

And this had also been the longest stint I had without beeping on call for a long time.

From last month, I have reduced my General Medical commitment at work and contrasting more on Haematology. Alhamdulillah, I had been busier but more focused. The majority of my inpatient now were with Haematology diseases and I got plenty of satisfaction in getting them sorted out.

I am still in the rota and will be on call this Sunday. But now, my calls were pretty spaced out and should I do a couple of duties close together, I had plenty of breathing after that.

This wedding also marked my wedding anniversary and Anita planned a nice dinner tomorrow. Looking forward to that.

At the meantime, I planned to get more stuff done tonight, plenty of reading, plus an early night ...

Four Years

I had been a Member of the Hospital Medical Advisory Board for the past two sessions - four years. I was the secretary for the last couple, and yesterday we held a fresh election which I did not stand for.

It was not too taxing but I had to spend a few afternoons a month attending meetings and other duties. Time to take a break. During that period, I was involved in Doctor's Agreement negotiations, implementation of GST - and now the removal of it - and also the introduction of the computer system at the hospital that was still a bone of contention at work.

So, the job was concluded with the minutes of the Staff Meeting held today. Time to sign off!