I finish yet another thirteen hour shift, exhausted, stressed, and frankly, quite miserable. My colleague cracked hours ago, disappearing to the toilets in a fit of tears, never to be seen again. The incoming co-workers look exhausted already, but are talking animatedly about the upcoming strikes. I go home, and try in vain to fall asleep, only to repeat it all the next day.
Sounds horrific, right? Don’t worry, I’m only describing my life a few months ago, a seemingly alternative universe in which I was working as a junior doctor in a busy NHS hospital and not enjoying any minute of it.
But come a month ago, I find myself savouring the croissants in the 7.4 kitchen, bought to celebrate my first day working as a medical writer in their gorgeous Oxford office. A pleasant chatter permeates the premises, and a hearty chuckle can be heard on more than one occasion. Sounds more like it already!