I met with my speech therapist supervisor today to talk about me (yay!), and go over all the necessary paperwork for the end of my CFY.   June 2nd will mark the unofficial end of my Clinical Fellowship “Year” (well, 9 months really), the end of 36 hours of observation, the end of many meetings that stretched beyond working hours, the end of having to have my billing paperwork co-signed, and the end of a lesser salary (so I’ve been told, and I choose to believe it).  Thankfully my supervisor is so awesome, I know it won’t be the end of mentorship.  I know I can always come to her with an issue with a coworker, or a clinical question, or to bounce ideas off of her.  But still, it’s a good feeling to be nearing the end.  I’ll get my state license in the coming months, and I’ll be a real, grown-up SLP. 

Recall how I bitched about my commute in previous posts?  About how the driving and the construction and the car’s seatbelt make commuting a quality of life issue for me?  Ah, yes.  Well, I put in for my transfer to the other center (the one half as far away as I travel now), and while my company is stalling, beating around the bush, and tiptoeing through the tulips to avoid telling me yay or nay, I did hear today during our meeting that I have an 82% chance of being transferred.  Not 85%, I was told, but 82%.  Which I’ll take for now.  If I’ve got that light at the end of the interminable traffic jam, then just maybe I can tough it out till June.  Or August.  Whenever they get all the new hires slotted into vacancies and the budget figured out and their horoscopes reworked (HR is a special place).  Then I’ll find out. 

Put in a good word for me with my hopes and dreams, please.  It would make a nice present to celebrate the end of my clinical fellowship year.  And we all like presents, don’t we?