Don’t Sweat the Small Things

Sometimes in life, we allow small things which on their own are not significant to add up and turn into a massive problem. I speak from experience.  I am a creature of habit so I like things to be a certain way. To a degree, I do have obsessive compulsive traits. That is not unusual in a doctor. It takes a certain type of personality to go through medical school and then to work in hospitals and face all the horrors that can come with the territory. When I was living on my own, it was easy to use those OC traits for the good. Everything had its place in the little space I had. No mess was left where it was. Everything was clean and orderly. My personal life was organised to a T. In direct contrast, my professional life despite all my best intentions often felt out of control and at best, it was an organised chaos. Dealing with humans and ill-health is by its nature very unpredictable. You do all you can do and things get worse in some patients. In some patients, you barely have to do anything and everything gets better anyway. Which sometimes makes me question exactly how much we as doctors are able to influence and if it has more to do with patients than us.

Anyway…my lovely ordered life was turned on its head when I met and moved in with my husband. He is the spontaneous type who makes ad-hoc plans and also changes them (or should I say ‘forgets’) without warning. He is so full of energy that he cannot be neat. When he makes a mess, he would rather clean it up later. Later being in a few hours, days, weeks or even months in some extreme cases. I used to get really worked up about these things and ended up cleaning up after him because it was too much of a hassle to nag him into doing it. Then I started to resent having to come home after a long day’s work to organise everything again or use up my precious days off sorting. Now I have swung the other way. I have become an expert at turning a blind eye. I refuse to see the mess and I will generally not tidy up if it is not my mess. So whilst I complain less and I try to let him get to it in his own sweet time, it hasn’t lessened the stress it causes in my mind. I will literally obsess about the mess not being there.

Whilst I generally get on with my fellow doctors and nurses at work, there is inevitably one who is like a thorn in my side. In my most recent rotation, there was one such nurse. I will call her Nadine. She is a senior nurse with a lot of experience – this is usually an asset but in her case, she thought she could tell me how to do my job. I am usually quite laid back and approachable at work but I am certainly no pushover. I can’t be because as a registrar I have to take overall responsibility for patients out of hours. Well, Nadine decided because I was a new registrar that she had to question all my decisions, mostly indirectly. This really riled me because the decisions that I made were either straight forward or those which were more complicated were discussed with the consultant as per usual practice. I found that lack of respect very irritating and at the start of the job, I had to avoid any contact with Nadine until I could detach myself enough not to care. Once I realised by talking to the other nurses that it was not unusual for Nadine to give rotating doctors a hard time, I was able to maintain professionalism by communicating what was essential and just tuning out the negativity. What Nadine (and I) felt in the grand scheme of things was insignificant as long as I did the job I was there to do and I did it well. By the time I left, I think she had gained a grudging working respect for me.

I guess what I am saying is that I have come to realise some facts of life. Main fact being that most of life is not within my control. Fact is that there are many small imperfections and it is not always possible (or maybe even desirable) to make them perfect. I don’t always find it easy to let those little things go but when I do, it is less stressful. As long as I control those things I can control and make life as good as I can within my little bubble, I can live with the little things. Life is hard enough without sweating the small stuff.

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