Committed to the Cause

So I've decided to write a blog.
And if you are reading this, it means I've totally lost the plot and gone all Britney 2007 and allowed people to read it.

In that case, this is where we're at.

It's been 18 months since I got a fairly reliable green light to come to South Africa and work.
I'd just pulled out of a half arsed Core Surgical application after getting drunk at a wedding in Thailand and deciding to move to Australia.

Yes. That's not even artistic license.

Moving to Africa was my number one plan after finishing my foundation training. Then I would come back, walk the core surgical interview and live happily ever after, training to be a vascular surgeon and power dressing.
 Luckily for me, life had other ideas*.

*A recent edit from 'my life is a disaster, I'm having an existential crisis'

So for better for worse, in the autumn of FY2 when my friends were putting finishing touches to their training applications, my fabulous African gap year fell apart at the seams.
There had been a funding cut, things were unstable and AHP weren't able to take me on. Being a successful graduate of GCSE Drama, I was beside myself. You hear these horror stories of people having a gap year and never getting on to training, especially in surgery. I thought I was on to a winner with a year in Africa in the trauma capital of the world, putting off the hamster wheel of surgical training in the NHS for a year without damaging my chances.

But suddenly - here I was, left outside alone (thanks to Anastacia for a total belter of a tune) with no plans beyond finishing FY2 and living in my mum's spare room acting out old episodes of ER.

Eventually I pulled myself together and the opportunity to go and work in Australia sort of fell into my lap. I mean, if you can call getting drunk off tequila in Thailand and losing a bet 'falling into your lap'.

In true Hannah style, two weeks after signing the contract with Queensland Health, I got a call saying that there was an opportunity for me to work in South Africa. Sods law, I'd already agreed to move to Australia. Again, in Hannah style - without self control or frugality, I decided to do both. So in February, after six months of tropical paradise in Cairns, I packed up my troubles and set sail for Mum's spare room, to wait out the final steps of getting registered in SA. (Obviously I had to go via New Zealand on holiday with friends as holidays are life, kids (life mantra).

I won't belittle the process. Going from 'I want to work in South Africa' to actually packing a bag to go has been a little over 18 months and very expensive. I had to try and co-ordinate the signing of legal documents in Scotland, whilst I was in Australia, and aforementioned documents later got lost in transit from Christchurch to Johannesburg. Thanks to some stellar work from my first class friends and family, I'm almost at completion, and I've even avoided perforating the stress ulcer I know is lurking in my gullet.

I've got an appointment at the embassy in Edinburgh in two weeks, and am tentatively hoping to be in SA by July. Six months later than planned.

Thanks to Mum's spare room for being the MVP.