So it's September second, and I'm sitting on my couch post call, and I cannot think straight.
I know I have a long road ahead of me. Most days I can face that pretty well because I love what I do. Every day that I get to go in and operate is a good day. Today, post call, is less of a good day.
Post call has its own set of rules that I will go over some time. Suffice to say for now, that it is not the healthiest of times. The only place I want to be is laying in my hammock sleeping the afternoon away. Instead I have to study for chief conference and prepare for my O.R. cases tomorrow.
I need a shower. I need to buy groceries. I need to remember where I put my pager because the damn thing is going off again even though I left the hospital an hour and a half ago, and it's haunting me like a parole ankle bracelet that lets everyone know where I am at all times.
And I cannot think straight.
