Saturday, November 03, 2007

Lifestyles of the rich and the famous



For the past few months my sister has had a pretty cool job. She was headhunted to be a nanny for the kids of one of the country's top paid Hollywood stars. And so for the past few months I've been hearing stories of the glamorous lifestyle of Sydney's Hollywood scene. The backstage antics, the film set dramas and the famous celebrities she gets to meet as a perk of being a nanny to the stars.

So last night after getting back form Whoop Whoop I thought I should catch up with my sister and see her for the first time in 10 weeks. We went to Starbucks and chatted but unfortunately she had to work again that night because her boss was going out to a function.

"But do you wanna come over and watch a DVD? I'd just have to check with the boss to make sure it's ok"

1 hour later she called back to say her boss said I could come over to watch DVDs with my sister and that we coudl help ourselves to their wine and beer selection.

I picked up some choclate and a DVD and raced over to the exclusive address. As I walked to the door, my eyes saw the sign above the door. The name of the mansion struck a bell... it was the city's most expensive mansion (the one that set the property record in 2002 with $28 million and is now worth $60) Yikes!

I walked inside what looked like the foyer of a world class hotel. Except that this was a home. The marble floors shone, the staircase was French in design, the artwork on the walls so bizarre. I stepped shyly into the kitchen, not wanting to touch anything lest I break it.


My sister offered me a beer from their industrial metal fridges which held more varieties of beer than my local pub. I was then taken on a personal tour by my sister of Australia's most prestigous house. The boat house and water taxi ramp were bathed in the harbour glow and moonlight. The swimming pool was calm and serene as the rain fell upon it casuing little ripples everywhere. The yard was immaculately kept lush green lawn and the playground bigger than most public park's.

The interior fo the hosue was indescribable. Surrond sound built into every room providing an ambient soundtrack ot the tour. A $70,000 table that I couldn't even bring myself to touch for fear of spoiling it. Views that drew in the harbour city and looked over the tranquility of the bay. Wardrobe rooms that were 3 times the size of my bedroom. Bathrooms that looked like Hollywood make up artists canvasses. A private 20 seat cinema in the basement.

We sat down in the main bedroom to watch a DVD so we could keep an eye on the kids. The wall folded back to reveal a large flatscreen TV with surrond sound. We watched our DVD and drank Heineken.

After the movie finished I grabbed the rubbish and helepd my sister carry it downstairs. As I turned around I spun right into her boss, who had just arrived home.

His face looked exactly like I had seen on the big screen. The surrealism I felt made me nervous. I felt my pusle shoot up and my face flush.

"Um ... hi?... my name's J. Pleased to meet you?"

He was taller in real life than I had imagined. A huge man with huge stature who commanded a presence. He shook my hand and made for the fridge to grab a late nigth snack. We stood around, his wife, him, me and my sister and chatted briefly about childhood immunisation, my sister's job and her whether she could have time off for a honeymoon if she ever gets married. I felt so weird, standing next to someone so famous in his kitchen as we chatted about the everyday thing of life. He and his wife commented on how alike my sister and I look. "Is that a good thing?" I nervously joked. He joked with his wife "Stop picking on the poor guy... you've only just met him" Wow! He stood up for me? Haha!

In 5 minutes time we left them and my sister and I went home and I had had my brush with fame. I'd been invited to his house, had a beer at his place and had a chat about common stuff with a very down to earth celebrity.

I wonder why some people seem to be so down to earth and yet so famous?

Farewell Whoop Whoop


January 2006 - a young doctor left the big smoke to start his internship up at Whoop Whoop Hospital. The beginning of his medical career, he was nervous and green. Keen... but wet round the ears. He knew the theory of patient management (supposedly) but had never actually put it into practice. Somehow he fumbled through those stressful days as his training wheels came off and he ran on his own for the first time.

Blog entry Monday 6th Feb 2006:
"I was being 'beeped' non-stop.. had no time to think about the decisions I was making... I was on autopilot but had no idea what I was doing... I no longer became an exercise in patient survival... it became an exercise in MY survival.
Burnt out I trudged down to handover to the evening RMO then walked home to the empty house ... it was awful... it was one of the most terrifying days of my life... and I wanted to quit..."

Fast forward 18 months and it was kinda fitting that my 2nd last term working as a doctor was back at Whoop Whoop. The wards were the same, the patients just as sick, but the doctor had made it. Internship had broken him, but he had fought back. Residency wasn't easy, but he was still alive and thriving once more.

The ward overtimes were just as hectic, but this time he was composed and able to triage the chaos better. The cannulas went in first time 90% of the time (instead of 10% last year) The nurses no longer intimidated him, instead he intimidated them.

Looking back I've come a long way profesisonally since last year. I've learnt an incomprehensible amount of medicine (more than medical school) and feel competent enough to act on my clinical judgement and know when to call for help.

Once again the social life in Whoop Whoop has been great. The other exiled doctors with me have bcoem my 2nd family. We've lived together, worked together, played together, eaten together and we'll always have many fond memories of the beach and the pubs.

At the start of this term I was exhausted, physically and emotionally burnt out and in need of rest. As I end this term I am thankful for the best 10 weeks of the year so far and step boldly into the dungeons of ED (urgh!)