Farewell, Oxford

As the party went on, I was thinking on writing a soul-filled text.

Something able to explain how I felt, how I saw that I was leaving a moment in life to allow a new one. Friends dancing, laughing, drinking and chatiing, smiling and approaching me to wish me best of lucks.

The video they shown me in the restaurant... made me cry. To the extent that when I had to stand up and say something, I could not find my own voice. Goddamnit, I was not expecting that, I was not ready for something like that. However, it was when I was back home and I could watch it without the background noise, listening to my friends and mates for so many years in Oxford that it touched my soul.
Hell, I'm tearful right now.

Six years and a half since I arrived to Oxford.
Six years and a half since I decided to "test my luck in England".
Six years and a half in which I went through penuries, depressions way deeper than what anyone does believe, followed by periods of great personal sucess.
Six years and a half in which I went from bein a nurse to be a Professional with capital "P". Because the OUH have provided me with opportunities I would not have had anywhere else.

To leave a place you call home is never easy. I've done it many times before: the first time I left Mallorca to study in Chile. When I came back from that country of "weones" to return to my homeland. When I left again to work in France. When I left that beautiful country to return to Mallorca a few months and, finally, to leave again to the UK for a promise of quality permanent position. And in all those times I left friendships and loves behind. A part of you always regrets to leave, but another part of you does live the adventure. As a famous Spanish songs says: "I only remembe the goods, nothing from the bads". I believe this is a leading idea in my life.

I am crying right now, and a part of myself does not want to leave. It wants to pull back and stay... but I can't do it now.

Those last years in Oxford have been wonerful, even with their darkest moments. Those moments in which your friendships go through happy moments and you can't be there to celebrate. Those moments in which you feel lonelier than ever and can't see anyone to call. Those moments in which a relative goes through terrible moments and you just wish to be there to hug him, but you can't. Those moments in which the cultural diferences became too difficult, to the point you just wish to leave everything and leave. Those moments in which some people ask you for an attention that you don't receive either (but you are the bad guy "because you left"). Those moments in which you just wish to yell "¡Me cago en todo!" and that someone understands what you are trying to communicate.

In the end, the good moments are way stronger than the bad ones. The seconds may help me to mature, to become a better self, but they do not leave a mark in my life or memories. And that's why now I feel a sadness that I find difficult to explain.

All the laughting moments.
The great professional work I've been able to perform in the ICU of the OUH.
Every relative that thanked, tears in their eyes, our work.
Every patient that could walk back to the unit to say hello.
Every successfull palliative care.
Every "eureka!" moment when we understood what was going on with a patient.
Every time that we could not help a patient and, despite all, we did the impossible to help.
And for every patient whose face and names I will never forget.

In the end, it all goes back to the same: To the deep reason that drives us to chose a sacrified and poorly-waged job. To the satusfaction of a well done job, the realisation of a human duty, to the performace of an excellent care team.

Today I'm leaving behind what I consider the job of my life.

But, unfortunately, work i not everything in life. Not even for a vocation nurse as I am.


Now a new phase opens in front of me. A phase in which I look forward to go back with old friendships and my family. One in which I may be able to find my own place and some stability in life. And, with a bit of luck, a phase in which I'll find a healthcare team nearing the quality of the Churchill Intensive Care Unit from the OUH.


To all of you who made my stance in Oxford possible; to all of you that supported me in the moments of greatest weakness; to all of you that pushed me into going a bit further when I was growing as a professional; to all of you that encouraged me to be an excellent nurse when I was already a senior in the unit; to all of you who challenged me when I messed up; to all of you who confronted me in the face of a bioethical conflict; to all of you that helped me to go through a difficult emoional moment; to all of you who were there in the laughter and tears for our patients:

A heartful "Thank you" to all of you.

I don't know what will happen in the future. But there is something I know for sure: No matter where I am, my door will always be open for all of you.

Big hug. I love you all.

Manuel Gala.