Travels with my Stethoscope .

2013. 23 years into my NHS career. I'm 43. I'm sure numerologists would have something to say about all those threes. So. This year I plan to ditch the NHS, set up my own company somehow, pay myself enough money to cover my mortgage, my pension, support my dog and my cat, and travel to some of the world's poorest places trying to lend a hand and not get in the way too much. No problem. No problem at all. I blame the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine. Six months ago I started the Diploma in Tropical Nursing. I was a well paid, if bored Clinical Site Manager.Then all these amazing, bright, interesting and frankly slightly batty academics spoke to us every Wednesday, about diseases I couldn't even spell.They told us about times spent in "Resource-poor Sub-Saharan Africa", how to save a villiage from Marburg virus with a jerry can of water and two metronidazole tablets, how to deliver a baby in the bush (three years training condensed into one "don't panic" lecture), how to diagnose malaria down a microscope (if in doubt, treat it!), and scared the living daylights out of us so that never again will I walk barefoot through stagnant water, or eat, well, anything ever again. The most inspiring, life changing, (and expensive!) six months of my career. I'm now on the (very expensive, did I mention that?) train to London to sit my laboratory exam, delighting my fellow passengers with pictures of faecal parasites .Then this time next week I have the written exam, and then ...I'm off to Kenya for 6 weeks to volunteer with a Maasai tribe, helping out with a health clinic. I have absolutely no idea what I am letting myself in for, but I'm sure it will be an eye opener. So - there we have it, new year, new horizons, new adventures. Bring it on.