In my mind, I was going to travel around the states for a year or two, experience exciting city life with expenses (mostly) paid in places like Manhattan, Washington DC, Chicago. Maybe spend some time in the south, peachy Georgia perhaps? Maybe even venture to the drizzly northwest of Seattle! The nation was my oyster. When I was sated I would return, of course, to California and buy a house. I guess God doesn't always let everything go the way you expect so you remember to turn to Him when a bit confusion hits.
So as I've mentioned before, I was in Boston for 6 months. Late summer changed t0 glorious fall and eventually into the much colder and not-quite-as-glorious-but-at-times-still-stunning winter. My first real winter. I was contracted to stay until May which thrilled me. Filled with premature spring fever, I looked forward to seeing the snow and sub-zero temperatures retreat into soft, sunny spring days, the trees in the Public Garden budding with new life, people converging on the lawn of the Common in tees and shorts to bask in the warmth of the new season. The changing of seasons was a foreign experience to me and I waited with impatient expectation, and cold toes. As it happened my contract wrapped up in January. No spring in New England after all. I returned to the land of perpetual summertime: California.
From Boston until now, my professional life has been unremarkable. Unemployed from February to April, working registry or agency from April to July (when I could get shifts), which brings me basically to England and once again, unemployment.
It took seven months from start to finish to wade through the process of getting a license to practice nursing in the UK. Correction, seven months to get to the UK. Nine to actually be licensed. And it's less of a wade than swimming against a riptide, really. Lots of feeling powerless. More on that later though. Arriving in England in mid-August, I had a new plan: complete Overseas Nursing programme (one month course that teaches foreign nurses about the intricacies of the National Health Service), get contracted to start work in the meantime, begin working by middle October.
It's two weeks later than expected but I finally have a job! As luck would have it, the British postal service, Royal Mail has been striking throughout the country since my arrival, delaying important documents I have had to send and receive. Also, my company was working hard to get me placed in a hospital in Bristol, which was my preference. Alas, this was not to be, at least not for this contract.
I have signed on for a 13 week assignment at a hospital in Gloucester, a city roughly 30 miles north of Bristol. Gloucester Royal Hospital. Forgive me for seeming to complain even when things have gone right, but this job presents a whole new set of challenges. First of all, let me say I'm glad to have a job, ecstatic. But here are some of the finer details. The unit I will be working in is actually divided into 2 sections, the neonatal intensive care, and the special care baby unit. These two sections are on two different hospital campuses. The special care unit is in Cheltenham, the next city over and about a 25-30 minute shuttle ride from the Gloucester unit. The shifts are 13.5 hours long and all staff rotate, meaning work alternating days and nights. The travel company I work for let the lease go on all their housing for travellers in the area because none of them renewed or extended their contracts for various reasons. So the only housing available is "hospital housing" which looks like dorms or jail. For this and other reasons, I have decided to stay in Bristol and commute to work via train. That will add a one hour journey to either end of the super long shift.
All things considered, I think it will be ok, I am optimistic. At least it's only 3 shifts per week. If it doesn't work out to commute from Bristol, I will go live in hospital housing, aka jail. All I can say is that it's great to have a job again.
No comments:
Post a Comment