Turning on the heat

We call clearing the patient queue "fighting the fire", and the department would have had burned down many times over if this metaphor is taken literally. Yet fireman Jerome gets a thrill each time he is on duty. In the process, Jerome gets his hair singed, his legs scalded, and his face scorched. His trusty weapon of firefighting has taken most of the beating, after being dropped many times over, and run over by a trolley once. Yet, he gets to fulfil his yearn for instant gratification each time his patients improve right before his eyes. He is an impatient man, so he cannot be bothered to wait and see if iv rocephine for 3/7 works for your pneumonia. He wants to shock you so you wake up from VF, and tube you so your sats improve, pronto.

This is why Jerome is not deciding on internal medicine for his BST, though he has been told he is "medically inclined". He's not fantastic with his hands either, which jitter a bit each time he does his T&S. So, surgery is kind of out too. This leaves him with nothing much actually.

Not too long ago Jerome received career counselling from a senior, who stated point blank that he is "not politically savvy enough" for a surgeon, and "not patient enough" to do ward rounds every day for the rest of his life. She also reckons that Jerome will be "bored with anaesthesia," what with their meticulous, obssesive-compulsive behaviour, and minimal patient contact.

Jerome is grateful for these candid remarks. He now thinks he should probably try out a career in firefighting.