Well, I'm certainly getting a little scared.

It's dissertation time. I question whether or not it's ethically acceptable for doctors to use the media as a means for blowing the whistle on poor patient care. The dreaded phrase 'culture of fear' just keeps coming up - over and over and OVER again. In order to put forward a good case, I often ask myself whether I should be writing my thesis as a future patient (it's likely - my chances of living till I'm at least 100 are looking pretty good - *check out the link at the bottom of this entry*) or a future doctor. 

Even though we hear the term 'whistleblow' banded around regularly, it isn't actually a real word you know - it's not in the Oxford English Dictionary. However, I would like to point out that 'bootylicious' and 'tittynope' are. If you don't believe me, I pray you take a look for yourself. Anyway, however you want to describe the action of informing someone about illicit  activities that occur in the establishment you work at, I'm going to make the claim that it's probably done with good intentions. 

If that's the case, then why are so many whistleblowers silenced? You do wonder that when there's legislation to protect them (Public Interest Disclosure Act 1998).  Why should I be scared to speak up if I'm concerned about something going on when I become a doctor? I shouldn't. 

Does it matter if I choose to use the media as a means for doing so? Good question.

*Chances are I'm going to receive a card from the monarch!

Actions speak louder than words (but words can also get you into a lot of trouble)

If I wasn't on a student budget, I'd bet a rather large amount in saying that there are a plenty more ways in which you can have a rant about something that really bothers you now than when our parents were young. Yes, the majority of us believe in the right to free speech but it goes without saying that there's always going to be someone who doesn't like what you've got to say.

So let's start with one of today's controversial statements then: 'Paedophilia is an illness'. This remark was made by the Archbishop of Durban on BBC Radio 5 live this morning (listen to his remarks live here - Paedophilia is an illness) and, of course, everyone has something to say about it. You may beg to differ. Personally, I'm not going to pass judgement as that's not my intention. Instead what I want to stress is how powerful a choice of words, a passing comment or a controversial tweet can be. 

Earlier, I overheard someone ask to be referred to as 'partially-sighted' rather than 'partially-blind'. Despite being a regular at Vision Express myself, I suppose I've never really considered how someone might refer to the fact that I have less than 20:20 vision. Yet to this particular individual, the description about a personal characteristic mattered. It's something that I would say is important for all of us to note because it's easy to (unintentionally) offend others. It's certainly something that I can empathise with. Sometimes it's the things that might seem insignificant to one individual that might mean a lot to another. Trivial to you, a big deal to me. 

(If you don't like anecdotes stop reading now.) 

I remember going to A&E once and the receptionist showing me a piece of paper with a list of various ethnic categories and asking me to choose which one I would describe myself as. Part of me wondered how she would've reacted if I'd picked one which was clearly untrue. I'm guessing she wouldn't have found it particularly funny. Is society becoming more sensitive to the feelings of others? Well it's either that, or we Brits pride ourselves on being particularly politically correct. 

(Source: www.cartoonstock.com)

Information overload.

One of my male friends once said that my porridge breakfasts
resemble rabbit food. That still hurts.

I haven't posted for a while. It's not because I haven't wanted to, but you know how it is - it seems that I've just been generally busy. I know that's not a good enough excuse. Amidst all of the things that I've been crossing out on my 'to-do list', one of them was to just breathe. You know the feeling, when you need to 'take time out', 'have a breather' or just stop whatever it is that seems to be making you feel like there aren't enough hours in the day. My favourite time of the day to stop - breakfast. Yum.

Moving on swiftly, do you remember who the Head Boy/Head Girl was at your school? You know that superhuman who managed to do absolutely everything whilst getting top marks and still managing to be a really really nice person? Yes, that person who you love to hate. Alright Chantal, don't mince your words - I wasn't Head Girl so I'm acting like I have some unchallenged right to say this. Then again, I should know better because one of my closest friends was and I love her no less. Anyway, there is a point to all of this. That likeable, over-achieving and, quite frankly, almost perfect individual appears to be the majority of medical students that I seem to come across. 

I say all of this having spent my Saturday afternoon at my university's medics careers fair. Yes, not only do we have our own sports teams, orchestra, ski trip and Domino's discount card (50% off, I kid you not) but we also have our own careers fair. The barrage of posters, leaflets and freebies promoting the specialities available to us once we graduate felt - at least initially - pretty overwhelming. I didn't even know that the term 'medico-politics' existed, until I approached the Doctor at the stall and walked away feeling like I could be the next Secretary of State for Health. Watch out Jeremy Hunt. I actually started to get excited about the various career opportunities available to me once I managed to 'man up' (why is it that we use that phrase, I mean what would it  mean to 'woman up'? Insert feminist rant here. No, I'll leave that to the likes of Caitlin Moran). 

This disjointed entry probably reflects the abundance of thoughts that I've been trying to suppress in a bid to focus on essay deadlines. On a brighter note, the sun has got his hat on in Bristol and so the to-do list has been abandoned for the day. I must remember, there's always tomorrow.