Encounter with a very straight police officer

Policeman:  What was in the bag? Any valuables?
Me:  A stethoscope, worth about £100 quid.
Policeman:  Anything else in it?
Me:  Nothing else worth mentioning.
Policeman:  OK, I'll put down an estimated loss of £100 then.  Oh wait, don't think the bag cost much?
Me:  Well, it actually did.  It was about £850.
Policeman:  £850???  What kind of bag costs £850?  What is it made of?  How come? (continued to stutter)
Me:  Well it's LV.
Policeman: (very blankly) LV?  What's that?
Me:  Louis Vuitton.  (Seeing that he is still not registering, I proceded to explain that it was a brand.)
Policeman:  Can you spell that please?
Me:  L-O-U-I (interrupted by him to slow down)-S  V-U-I-(interrupted again)-T-T-O-N.
Policeman:  What shape was it?
Me:  Rectangular.
Policeman:  So, essentially a laptop bag then.
Me:  Might look like one, to the untrained.

the damage.....fucker

That was part of the conversation that I had with a police officer at Kennington police station as I was reporting a crime committed against my car and my bag.  Some bastard smashed my car window and slung his filthy arm into my coupe and took away with it my black Taiga leather work bag containing the one tool I heavily depended on to do my job.  You bastard, you had better not end up overdosed with cocaine bought with the cash you got from flogging my belongings.  You may end up in A n E and come to face to face with a stethoscope-less doctor!  Or worse, you may not even get there in time.

Rejuvenated interests

I am not sure whether it is a knee-jerk reaction to the threat of loss, but in a strange twist of events which I do not even comprehend fully, I have since rediscovered my affection for my boyfriend, big-time.  It is almost as if we were back to when we first started going out; the fluttery anticipation of seeing him, the sweet nothings, the intimacy plus the added bonus of better understanding and appreciation of each other that grew from the adversities that had presented themselves in the past months.  I certainly hope this feeling is going to be sustained, and not merely a childish reaction to nearly losing a 'toy'.

On my career front, I am now more certain than I have ever been that I will not want to leave clinical medicine.  It is something that has been in contention in the back of my mind.  Clinical medicine is stressful, and I had been unsure whether I would want to dedicate what remained of my youth to toiling for NHS and getting paid meagre salary.  However, since working PRN (drug prescription term for 'as when required') in the past couple of months in acute medicine, it suddenly descended upon me that I actually enjoyed what I was doing.  Although sure there had been times when I looked up at the patients' arrival board and sighed at the sight of more 'chest pains' or 'confusion, ?cause' cases to be seen, I realised that whilst I had seen countless of them (and secretly wished for 'something' more exciting to come through), the patient's (and their family's) take on the experience was wholly individual.  I am happy that I am able to somewhat make the frightening process a bit less daunting and easier for them (that is if I'm not stressed out by the constant barging of grumpy, obese sisters trying to hurry me through the list), and in that whole process hopefully get the right treatment started! 

So, screw the £2500/month pay (though I'm hoping it'll get better), at least I do good to the society (this is for all the filthy rich bankers out there).  Screw not being able to party like crazy every night, at least my brain won't shrivel into nothingness (for all the drug-fuelled clubbers in Vauxhall).  Screw the greek gods in the gym, it will never last.  Ok, I'm sounding bitter, but on the whole, I am at peace.

Interests rejuvenated.  I am happy.  For now.