This year has had, at least from my peculiar and very Western perspective, a peculiarly narrative structure; specifically, the classic narrative structure of a disaster movie (although at times it has felt more like a 10-season box set).
It started, as many good stories do, right at the start of the year with dark rumours from a distant land. We’d heard such rumours before, and they hadn’t really amounted to anything, so most of us weren’t especially worried.
When things went wrong, it was at a dizzying pace. Within the space of a few days, I went from thinking that I might have to delay visiting my parents in Manchester, to worrying that I might not be able to make it to the US for my final pathology exam, to thinking that the world was literally coming to an end. Things got strange, dark and difficult for all of us.
Darkest just before dawn
True to narrative form, after the first phase they got better, then quickly darker than ever. General practice, which has always been stressful, if rewarding, became… well, you know (and if you don’t, have a read of Jordan’s excellent blog post to find out). Even my own little corner of the veterinary world – clinical pathology – bent out of shape, and became more stressful and unpredictable, and all of our home lives changed, in some cases forever.
Then again, true to narrative form, it was darkest just before the dawn; our light came in the form of an unexpected successful vaccine timed almost perfectly to arrive right at the end of the year, and wrapping up this dreadful 12 months on a surprisingly hopeful note.
Of course, it’s not over yet, and of course problems are likely to occur with the rollout, and more deaths will follow. The inequalities of the old world mean that almost certainly many more underprivileged people will die than lucky white guys like me, but forgive me a brief suspension of cynicism and lets enjoy some old-fashioned optimism.
Honouring heroes
Whatever your Christmas is this year, it’s probably not the one you expected. This year has had its fair share of heroes – the kind of people who never think of themselves as such, but who keep carrying on even though everything has become more difficult, even though they’re exhausted, because they know things have to carry on, because they don’t want to let their colleagues down and because things would be just a little bit worse if they didn’t try.
We all clapped for the NHS, and we were right to do so. I don’t think when we were clapping that we only meant doctors and nurses; I think we meant the biomedical scientists, technicians, porters, receptionists, administration staff and many others, all of whom saw their jobs turned upside down, their hours expand and their stress increase – and all of whom have had their pay frozen as a reward for their efforts (unlike the bankers in 2008… it turns out my suspension of cynicism didn’t last as long as I’d hoped).
Nevertheless, whoever you are and whatever you do, this year didn’t turn out how you’d hoped. You cancelled plans, missed friends and maybe lost someone. Our collective mental health, as well as our physical, has taken a battering. There’s no shame in feeling anxious, tense, afraid or like a failure. None of those things are ever anything to be ashamed of, certainly not this year. We’ve all been through it and we’ve all made it this far. There’s still a bit of a road ahead, but we can see the destination now.
Here’s to you
In my previous Christmas blogs I’ve often asked you to think about someone, such as vets and nurses working over Christmas, and raise your glass in toast to them. Well, this year I’d like you to toast someone else: you – yes, you reading this.
However you made it this far, you found it hard. Maybe you kept calm and carried on; maybe it broke you. Maybe you feel guilty for finding it tough when you know other people had it worse. Maybe you were at the sharp end of it and can’t imagine how you did it. It doesn’t matter. We made it this far, and its Christmas. Let’s appreciate each other and, most importantly, ourselves.
Here’s a little Christmas cheer – a salute from me to you. We made it this far, and we’re nearly there. Relax and be kind to yourself, please. You deserve it. You do.
I’ll see you next year.
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