Well, I've handed back my badge, my gun, and my extra strength drops for difficult patients, and left the hospital for the last time...
Although judging by the amount of farewell cake I've eaten, I'll soon be back there for a gastric band.
My last week has been like a farewell tour across Sussex, taking in Lewes, Uckfield, Burgess Hill and Brighton, and on Wednesday evening I performed my greatest hits to a specially invited audience by giving a 50-minute talk about eye screening to a diabetes support group. They've been looking for some midweek entertainment since The Great British Bake Off finished. It all went remarkably well, and I received a bottle of wine for my trouble, which was an unexpected bonus.
I didn't get home until 10:30pm, but that was partly because I was taking advantage of the Halloween season by stocking up on eyeball cakes at Tesco. I did my last clinic yesterday morning, then spent the afternoon carrying out vitrectomies with a gateaux fork. It was all a bit emoshe, partly because I could see the damage I was doing to my waistline, but mainly because this has been the best job I've ever had, and it's kinda sad to be leaving.
Not that everyone's feeling my pain...
Amelie's currently living it up in St Leonards with her grandparents, but I took the remaining members of my family down to the West Quay after work to drown my sorrows in barbecue sauce and raise a toast to the future with some deep fried onion rings.
Today I'm going trick or treating in London at the Royal College of Ophthalmologists, then returning to Brighton for my leaving drinks. And then, after a six year journey to the posterior pole, it'll finally be job done.