It’s just over two weeks since I started bank work with the NHS and it’s been a rollercoaster of emotions. It wasn’t my intention to go full time, far from it. I found myself in a baptism of fire in the same week as the schools closed down. Whilst everyone else was told to work from home, socially distance themselves, self isolate and home school their kids, here I was going full time as a key worker in the middle of a pandemic. Funny time to start a new job H. Yes, yes it is.
Day one
The first office, although at the time I thought, the only office I’d be working from. I get settled after a fashion and check my mobile – message from my mate, how’s it going? Honestly? I’ve forgotten all my passwords that I set up in training and it’s taken me an hour to sort them out and I’ve just cut my finger on a staple and I’m too embarrassed to tell anyone!
I’m working in paediatrics and this is all starting to become a bit real. A whirlwind ensues of realising just what this means for people with children who are sick or on medication or are being supported by the NHS and no longer at school. But I’m doing my bit and it feels like I’m making a difference.
I haven’t been there a day and I also feel like I’m settling in ok. There’s not really time to take your time and learn the ropes, it’s full on, learn as you go type stuff. So, when my phone beeps and it’s Bob from round the corner, I initially panic that I haven’t got time for this! Last week I delivered notes and food packages to every household in my street and I’m now the main contact if they need anything. I wasn’t planning on working full time in lockdown when I put the notes through but then I remember with my WhatsApp army of neighbours behind me I can pretty much organise and distribute anything! It’s ok H, you’ve got this.
So back to Bobs text. He needs a few essentials – I reply, of course Bob no problem what do you need? Kiwis, swede, strawberries, romaine lettuce, blueberries, spring onions – so Farnham it hurts! I honestly don’t fancy my chances of getting any of this. Pre lockdown you’ll remember the crazy rush on all food and panic buying – I’m not being funny, Bob might have to go without his kiwis. My colleagues look at me as I verbalise my thoughts across the office – I’m not sure they know what to make of me if I’m honest – but we all fall about laughing – we work opposite Waitrose and of course Bob got his kiwis, his swede, and even his spring onions. Bless Bob.
Ice broken
They get my sense of humour thank God, cos now is not the time to be on your best behaviour H. Now is the time to just get through the day, find the funny side of the situation you find yourself in and just be yourself. If it keeps people laughing and sane then that’s why I’m here.
Day two
…and we’re on lockdown. I get in, everyone is in a quiet panic. We need to work from home, one person per office, we have dozens of staff who are vulnerable – how on earth do we take this service online? This is no laughing matter, it’s all hands on deck and we all muck in. It’s a hard day and by the afternoon I am told I need to be working from a different office with different people. Usually you have a few weeks of settling in and taking your time to get to know people. I’m like a speed dater on the NHS.
I head home to the husband and kids, to make brownies and try and make sense of it all. This new normal where I’m out all day, my kids are being home-schooled by the husband who has also developed a sherry habit by 5pm and I’m Florence nightingale for the cul-de-sac.
Day three
New office, more speed dating. I turn up to tears. It’s really starting to get to people. These NHS workers are human beings with lives just like us. They have elderly parents, small children, partners who are key workers and underlying health conditions. They are torn between doing the right thing for them and their families and doing the job they love.
It’s tough.
I pop myself down at a desk. Offer to make tea – tea makes everything better.
No one wants my tea.
I find a cup – it has Phillip Schofield’s face on. Maybe today won’t be too bad after all. I mean the hubster gets two kids all day whilst trying to work and I have the Schofe!
I sit back down at my desk, think to myself, right, more colleagues I need to speed date with, how shall I do this. Ten minutes in my mobile goes – I figure I need to answer it incase it’s a work related call.
It’s not.
It’s Jean, Bob’s neighbour.
Is that Helen who put the notes through the door? Yes, yes it is. Everything ok Jean? Do you need anything? My colleagues look across, understandably concerned – not that they know who Jean is – come to think of it, neither do I!
I just wondered if you’re going to the shops Helen, only I need some lettuce. I’m not planning on going to the shops Jean but I’m sure I can get some to you (thinking I will text my WhatsApp army and hey presto the lettuce will appear on her doorstep!)
It’s not urgent, it’s just the tortoises have just woken up…….
A bit of a pause, as we both take it in…of all the times the tortoises could have woken up it’s in the middle of a sodding lockdown amongst a global pandemic!
And that’s us gone. In absolute hysterics, me and Jean from number 5.
Now bear in mind my colleagues can ony hear one side of this conversation and have probably gone from concern to confused in a matter of seconds you should have seen their faces when I then said
and do the tortoises like any lettuce in particular?
Cue massive hysteria both on and off the phone and Jean trying to get her words out between laughs saying well they like an iceberg but failing that a Romaine….
Ice broken
I’m there for two days before I’m moved to total isolation in another office.
Day five
On my own
No ice breaking needed. I can’t even describe to you how it feels to work out of a ward that has no staff at reception, no clients waiting to see the Dr, no colleagues, no noise, no life. I only have my own company and that of the local radio – even that is annoying all day long. I’m virtually meeting people over email as time goes on. I have visions of the future when all this goes back to normal and I’ll no longer be working out of a Doctors office, I might not be working there at all and they will all come back to work and wonder who this random woman was who came in for 12 weeks (or whatever it ends up being) and then left.
I have to make my own entertainment. I have a little boogie on the spinny chair, sometimes I sing aloud (sorry to anyone who has witnessed it), sometimes I stand up instead of sitting down! This week I popped onto the scales – the paediatric scales, you know the ones that kids go on with a mini chair! That was a shock and a half I can tell you! We don’t have scales at home so I was quite surprised to find out I weigh as much as the husband. Well, not that surprised if I’m honest with you. I was a little bit miffed when I was told the following day I need to use the loading bay to access work! I’m pretty sure it’s just a coincidence but I am going to check for hidden cameras on the scales on Monday!
So, it’s all been a bit of a rollercoaster. As I write this, the pandemic is ramping up, a testing area is being set up in the car park and I’m washing and sanitising like a mo fo!
I get in, wash my hands, sit down, sanitise the desk and phones, make a tea, wash my hands, finish my tea, sanitise my hands, go to the printer, sanitise the printer, back to my office, sanitise my hands, make a coffee, wash my hands, back to my office, sanitise my hands, go the loo, wash my hands (obvs) use paper to open the door, back to my office, sanitise my hands… this goes on all day. It’s exhausting and I’m not even frontline but there are one or two people that come in now and again so you can’t be complacent.
I leave the office, sanitise my hands, use a wipe to open all the doors on the way out. Get to my car, drive home, wipe my car steering wheel, the radio button, the indicators, the door handle (inside and out) my front door handle and head into the porch. I then refuse to hug anyone until I’ve washed my hands again and make sure my handbag is left in the porch. This pandemic is not to be taken lightly, but I find keeping my sense of humour is getting me through.
I hope it helps to get you through too.
Stay at home, Protect the NHS, Save lives.
H x
Style Me H 