Working in the UK had been getting to me. There was no sudden, big event that drove me away from the country of my birth, my family and my friends; nor was there a gradual despair at the NHS, life in the UK or any other one thing.
Restlessness, that sense of not quite being at peace, had followed me around. In this case, ten plus years of medical training in the West Midlands had made me crave a new challenge, a new direction. UK medical training has been taking its toll; CBD, CEX, DOPS, MSF, ARCP, rivers of acronyms running through my training, trying to shoe-horn my brain into somebody else’s model of learning. Endless hoop-jumping. The gradual wearing-down. A change, a break, was needed.
A change has been found. New Zealand offered it, a mere 11,759 miles from home. Home is where I shall return to eventually, but for now, a change.