Post call

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.