‘#nhscrisis, what #nhscrisis?’ she says as she reaches for her large G&T…
I’d refrained from blogging until today, as I was finding it surprisingly easy to stay on the straight and narrow (dry) road. Perhaps it was simply the overindulgance of the festive period still coursing through my veins, or a subconscious avoidance of all situations alcoholic, but I hadn’t been feeling the need to partake.
The weekend after New Years had been necessarily family focused before school kicked off – Disney on Ice, the annual Panto (Cinderella) and various Frozen related activities. On Monday my smallest, a 3 year old girl (going on teenager), started nursery. It tore at my heart strings, seeing her acting so grown up in her uniform, but I didn’t feel the need to toast her first day with a glass of Sancerre.
In fact, I was feeling rather smug; I’d been eating clean, committed to Crossfit, and had a general renewed positivity about work. You know it all has to deteriorate, right?
The reality of our local situation – the pressure on the urgent and emergency care system, on primary care, indeed on our NHS – started to hit on Tuesday and by yesterday evening I was absolutely ready to drink anything that was accessible, never mind chilled. I distracted myself with a bid that we are writing, and got to sleep early(ish) telling myself today would be different. A 5am start, and many more wicked problems winging their way to us, and Twitter has largely managed to keep me away from the fridge.
The weekend upon us, I’ve not organised anything. At all. For the first time in months! No pressure to drink, just a focus on rest and recuperation. And A&E. And Primary Care. And Community Services. And that pesky bid. Hmmm… Drink, anyone?
