November. The practice hums with a kind of tired optimism. The kind that says, “We’ve nearly made it.” The decorations haven’t appeared yet, but everyone’s already pretending not to notice the calendar edging toward December. Even the dentist’s drill is sounding like chimes, far off between the occasional yelp.
This is the month of gentle denial: not quite festive, not quite finished, and definitely not ready for the rush that’s coming.
The physiotherapist has started doing her own stretches between clients. The OT’s desk looks like an abstract sculpture of paperwork and cold coffee. The psychologist has stopped analysing dreams and started having a few of her own dreams about unfinished notes. The speech therapist smiles serenely and repeats her new affirmation: “Steady pace, not survival mode.”
Patients, meanwhile, are entering their pre-holiday phase of sudden urgency:
“Can we wrap up before Christmas?”
“I want to be pain-free for the family trip.”
“I’ve been meaning to come since April, is next week fine?”
You nod, smile and gently explain that your calendar is full, while silently marvelling at the annual tradition of last-minute recovery goals.
Admin season has also settled in comfortably. Reports are multiplying in quiet corners, the the laptop keeps offering updates you’re avoiding installing and the stream of CPD reminder emails start arriving with their trademark false cheer. Santie the office manager is hyping up the staff lunch. Karien (not her real name – dietitian) votes for salad, I vote wine and the physio just hopes for a chair.
Even the equipment seems tired. The printer hesitates before each page, the Wi-Fi takes reflective pauses and the paper files drop from overladen cupboards, silently willing you to see patients you last saw before lockdown. It’s not sabotage, exactly it is more a shared sense of pacing.
And yet, through the slow unravel of late spring, you keep things moving. You listen, guide, stretch, adapt and encourage others that is often more gentle than you do yourself. There’s a steady dignity in that kind of care.
So as November drifts toward December, take a quiet breath. Finish the report. Leave on time, at least once. Because soon enough, the tinsel will go up, the diaries will overflow, and you’ll be performing the usual festive miracles with patience, grace, and maybe even a little humour.