Wound up in Wexford

By Neatwithice

Leaving celebration

Today was my last day at work.  It's not actually my last day of employment, as I have 3 weeks holiday owing - which takes me to the end of January.  By that time, it will be 39 years since I started work as a doctor (on 1st February 1980).  And it will be very nearly 25 years since I started to work in Norwich.  Talking to some of my younger colleagues today, who anticipate having to work until they are 66 or older, I feel lucky to have been able to retire at the age of only 63.  Until a couple of years ago, I had intended to work until I was 65, but changes in my personal circumstances and the operations on my knees have made me realise that now was the time to stop.

It was a fairly low key departure - despite my mentioning it (in anticipatory tones) many times at work, a goodly number of people seem to have missed the news, and were taken by surprise today.  I sat in splendour in my office, trying to do some last minute work, with nibbles and cakes kindly supplied by my lovely secretary, and various colleagues visited.

One of the nicest things said was that whenever they came to me for advice, they found it to be eminently helpful, sensible and down to earth.  Someone also said how kind I always was to the juniors.  What better memories can I ask for?

I will miss the camaraderie of work, and my colleagues, but I can continue to attend the social events for that aspect.  I will miss the contact with patients on the few occasions when it was possible to have an unhurried consultation.  But I will not miss the unending struggle to cope with the workload that typified my days on the shop floor over the last few years. 

We're going out for a celebratory curry early in February, when I might be able to get a group photo.

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