Yesterday I had one of 'those' realisations. You know the ones where everything seems to make sense, and you realise that you're actually very satisfied to be doing what you're doing.
I discovered this while standing watching an operation in theatre.
I was having a look through the list with the scrub nurse and asked if I could go and see the next patient before they brought him down to theatre. They said that was fine (and I guess I was probably standing in the way again....) and I pootled off in the direction of the ward to go and find the elusive next patient.
I arrived on the ward (feeling very self conscious that I was still wearing scrubs...) and asked if it was OK to speak to the patient. At this point the staff nurse decided to warn me that our patient was 'a cantancerous git and hated doctors'. Wonderful, sounded like fun. I nearly backed out and decided to leave him in peace, but decided I needed the challenge.
Oddly, he was as nice as pie with me. Absolutely amazingly friendly. Told me off for calling him Mr Delaney* and insisted I called him George. He was unhappy that he had been kept waiting so long, but I pushed my luck and told him that it shouldn't be too long now.
As it happened, the ODP and I crossed paths as I returned to theatre and he went to collect him.
Nevertheless, I got a smile and a chat in the anaesthetic room. Made me happy.
* Obviously not his real name.