Deeper Than Skin Deep

Today, I ran into a person I hadn't seen for more than three years; I'd tried to visit him since, but he was always away.  The consultant plastic surgeon I did my work experience with back in 2006 was walking into our medical school building and I couldn't help but call his name. He was walking with two other doctors, one of whom I recognised as a 'lower-down' plastic surgeon, who I don't think properly recognised me when I talked to him. I didn't blame him; it's been a while, but the consultant (Mr Shibu- 'Mister' being the title they give to surgeons, taking away the 'Doctor' they'd been working for all those years) did recognise me, and even remembered my name (well, my brother's name, but close enough :P). Probably quite old judging by the number of years he must've put in to get where he is, he still looked quite youthful, and hadn't lost that playful glint in his eye.  The couple of weeks spent with him were of the most enlightening ever.  He not only opened my eyes to what medicine really was about, but taught me a few plastic-surgery related things, and didn't think I was a waste of time, as I hear most consultants tend to do. He's funny and friendly, trustworthy and caring; passionate about his job, someone I really look up to and hope to be like one day.

The work experience itself was amazing; seeing a wide range of diseases and disabilities, from genetic impairments to gunshot and knife wounds. There was a baby girl whose nerve supply to her face was underdeveloped, leaving her unable to even smile.  But for every problem there is a solution (well, almost), and the plastic surgeons were at hand to sew things back up and make people's limbs more aesthetically pleasing to them. A very rewarding and noble field, which I am seriously considering as an option (which is the same for every speciality at this stage I suppose, but this one more so).

Speaking of aesthetic pleasure, I went down to a car-boot sale which was at the school I took my brother for Saturday morning football. It's just the usual thing; people selling things they don't want, but with this being a good school (The Malorees, where a few of my siblings have been bullies pupils), there were a few middle-classish people selling their unwanted items (including, if I recall correctly, a Nintendo 64 for 20 pence!). There was quite a good stall of just antiques and paintings, and I couldn't help but be drawn to the liquid green embedded in glass paperweight (it caught my eye because I remember a similar one being in the George Orwell book '1984'). 3 pounds only? Bargain.  After a couple of rounds of the car-boot sale (and buying a Lord of the Rings DVD for a pound), I revisited the stall and decided that I needed a matching vase to hold my peacock feathers in (oh yes, some guy was selling peacock feathers randomly in the middle of Whitechapel.)
So in the end I decided on a cool red molten-twisted look vase, which I'm pleased with (as in, it's doing what it's supposed to... being a vase), and it sits happily atop my bookcase, displaying my picturesque plume of peacock feathers :)