As I sat in class this week trying to imagine what it's like to travel down the birth canal, I wondered whether it might not be time to look for a new job. There's no substantive reason as to why I should: I don't hate my job - I would even go as far as saying some days are quite amenable and as my Masters course stipulates I need to be working with children, overall it isn't a bad gig. The problem with my job is that it isn't my dream job, although in 25 years I haven't been able to come up with a conclusive definition of what such a job might be, so right out of the gate actually doing it could be tricky.
It'a my kidney failure's fault, you see - but then I do tend to mostly blame everything on my kidney failure, from my bad hair day to my inability to cook an edible thai broth, and it is most definitely the reason why I cannot reverse park. If only I hadn't gone into kidney failure, I would absolutely definitely be a world renowned songwriter by now, or a much lauded author, or a backing dancer. FOR A HIP-HOP ARTIST. My yen to get as much distance between myself and the restrictions of my condition have, over the years, led me to pursue a range of random and increasingly unlikely career paths. I want to work in PR, its all I've ever wanted to do. Ooh, ohh, no! I ACTUALLY have my heart set on teaching - kids will (probably) love me. Hang about....no, what I REALLY want is to go into play therapy...make that psychotherapy...maybe I want to be a yoga teacher?
In truth, all I want is to have fun, because dialysis is only a little bit amusing sometimes, but Topshop jumpers and packets of Snack-a-Jacks don't buy themselves so I have to work, just like everyone else (why didn't I just blame kidney failure? I could be spending my days on my sofa in the company of the Loose Women. Missed opportunity there). Recently I have started to wonder whether there might be a way in which I could work AND enjoy myself, if such a thing even is possible; my latest hair-brained scheme is to train as a yoga teacher so that when I complete my Masters I could become an uber psychotherpist-cum-yogi-cum-general-spiritual-leader-deity and treat my patients on the inside and (wait for it...) on the outside too. In the meantime, I could drift around London teaching yoga and basically being bendy whilst volunteering with the kids in my free time and wading through my Masters. How, in the name of all that is tantric, could this plan possibly fail?
Well, I've blamed its demise on my kidney failure. Having done a good 20 minutes of research, it appears that those souls wishing to qualify in the Yogic sector can either do a brief, intensive course or a prolonged one that only requires a few weekends of attendance here and there. Anything measured in months is too long for me; now that I have decided to become a yoga teacher I must, and as quickly as possible. So short intensive course it is. Except...it costs the best part of 3 grand and requires students to attend five days a week, for the whole day, for six or so weeks. Unfortunately, the hospital are also quite pernickity about me attending dialysis. I could go to yoga lessons instead of dialysis, but it would mean I'd pretty much end up dead, so, on balance, the hospital looks like it might be the safe bet.
So yoga teacher plans are on ice and in the meantime I shall just have to focus on my Masters and try and fill my boots with some fun in other ways: I'll start by wearing a kooky hat and see where the spirit takes me. Of course, a transplant is the most fun a girl can have - having taken her clothes off, health and safety - but in the meantime, if someday I want to teach yoga, I must remember to be flexible.
It'a my kidney failure's fault, you see - but then I do tend to mostly blame everything on my kidney failure, from my bad hair day to my inability to cook an edible thai broth, and it is most definitely the reason why I cannot reverse park. If only I hadn't gone into kidney failure, I would absolutely definitely be a world renowned songwriter by now, or a much lauded author, or a backing dancer. FOR A HIP-HOP ARTIST. My yen to get as much distance between myself and the restrictions of my condition have, over the years, led me to pursue a range of random and increasingly unlikely career paths. I want to work in PR, its all I've ever wanted to do. Ooh, ohh, no! I ACTUALLY have my heart set on teaching - kids will (probably) love me. Hang about....no, what I REALLY want is to go into play therapy...make that psychotherapy...maybe I want to be a yoga teacher?
In truth, all I want is to have fun, because dialysis is only a little bit amusing sometimes, but Topshop jumpers and packets of Snack-a-Jacks don't buy themselves so I have to work, just like everyone else (why didn't I just blame kidney failure? I could be spending my days on my sofa in the company of the Loose Women. Missed opportunity there). Recently I have started to wonder whether there might be a way in which I could work AND enjoy myself, if such a thing even is possible; my latest hair-brained scheme is to train as a yoga teacher so that when I complete my Masters I could become an uber psychotherpist-cum-yogi-cum-general-spiritual-leader-deity and treat my patients on the inside and (wait for it...) on the outside too. In the meantime, I could drift around London teaching yoga and basically being bendy whilst volunteering with the kids in my free time and wading through my Masters. How, in the name of all that is tantric, could this plan possibly fail?
Well, I've blamed its demise on my kidney failure. Having done a good 20 minutes of research, it appears that those souls wishing to qualify in the Yogic sector can either do a brief, intensive course or a prolonged one that only requires a few weekends of attendance here and there. Anything measured in months is too long for me; now that I have decided to become a yoga teacher I must, and as quickly as possible. So short intensive course it is. Except...it costs the best part of 3 grand and requires students to attend five days a week, for the whole day, for six or so weeks. Unfortunately, the hospital are also quite pernickity about me attending dialysis. I could go to yoga lessons instead of dialysis, but it would mean I'd pretty much end up dead, so, on balance, the hospital looks like it might be the safe bet.
So yoga teacher plans are on ice and in the meantime I shall just have to focus on my Masters and try and fill my boots with some fun in other ways: I'll start by wearing a kooky hat and see where the spirit takes me. Of course, a transplant is the most fun a girl can have - having taken her clothes off, health and safety - but in the meantime, if someday I want to teach yoga, I must remember to be flexible.
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