I'm on a plane today. Flying cross country; partly for business, partly for pleasure, completely for me.
I worked yesterday. I worked during the day. It was good, really good. I haven't enjoyed a day at work like that in a really really long time. I talked with lots of families: reassured, educated, laughed, hugged, joked, encouraged. I felt like me. I intubated this young patient; I'm really getting good at that.
I wish everyday were like yesterday. It was what I had hoped and dreamed it would be.
Lately, it has mostly been not what I had hoped and dreamed. It has been rough, exhausting, and at times disappointing. I realized the other day that I love what I do, but I hate my job. How does that even make sense?
A lot of it is the hours, okay most of it. I know that will eventually change. Things happened this year that cut our staffing in half and now there are two of us attempting 24/7 coverage. It's not working out too well. Eventually, there will be five of us again. I won't be switching back and forth between nights and days. I might even feel "normal" again.
I suppose that's the fear though, that I'll never feel normal again. That I'll always be tired. That my life will never know stability and consistency again. That I won't ever have a schedule that makes sense and is conducive with the rest of the living world. I miss sleeping at night and waking up early to meet the day. I miss having routine. I miss going to church.
The woman behind me is coughing. I'm wondering why. Does she have a cold, a virus? Is it just the change in weather? Is she covering her mouth? Or is she spraying millions of bacteria molecules into the air?
I need more sleep. I need more days that dreams were made of.