So this is it. Twelve months time and I will be, barring an catastrophic cock-ups on my behalf, a fully qualified GP. My wife is thrilled – it means we may be able to finally upgrade from the Citroen C2 – which while a spritely 1.1L car – does feel a little bit like forgetting your P.E. kit and having to borrow the cast-offs from the lost property box. Sorry, Citroen.
On the plus side, my final twelve months are in GP surgery within cycling distance. Sorry Citroen – you’re dumped. On the morning of my first ride to work, inspirational thoughts of Sir Chris Hoy, leapt into my mind. He really rocked the lycra. After then staring at the exceptionally pathetic state of my cycling lycra collection, those same thoughts leap out my mind. Replaced was a steely determination that swept over me (last experienced when tacking that stuck ring pessary in clinic), and after a few sharp inspired breathes, conjuring of warm thoughts (for the sake of my own dignity), I wrestled into my lycra.
Thirteen miles later (it’s actually only 11 miles away from home but I got lost – twice), I arrived at my new GP surgery. Home for the next twelve months. I’m excited. The bike locked outside, I took a moment to whisper some inspiration words to myself – “don’t kill anyone on your first day” (extremely difficult given that I just observing this week) – and stepped into the surgery.
Now they say first impressions count.
I really hadn’t thought this through.
A first impression that says professional, diligent, and presentable – are a real stretch when you are standing in front of your new boss, two receptionists and the surgery clinical manager dressed in what can only be described as a gimp suit for wayward cyclists. A fatally placed water splash mark from my (cold) water bottle over the groin is the sucker punch.
Like anyone caught compromised, I realised, on the balance of things, that I had two options; Apologise profusely, trying to explain the series of unfortunate life (and faulty water bottle) choices that led to these lycra choices and regain some impressional ground back – or, pretend like there was absolutely nothing wrong and, that this is just the way I roll.
I, ladies and gentlemen, chose to roll.
Next week I begin to see you – the patients. I cannot wait. Let’s enjoy the next twelve month adventure together, shall we?