14 Days and a Few Hours

If this month is any longer than 14 more days and a few hours, it may be the end of me. I'm dying. I knew Oncology would be a difficult month, but it has far exceeded expectations. My patients are awesome... for the most part, and the actual work itself isn't bad. However, there are only two residents on the service (for some ungodly, political reason) to split the call. I'm not that great at mental math, but there aren't too many creative ways to split a month of being on call between two people and end up ahead. What it has boiled down to is what we call "q2" (in layman's terms - I'm on call every other freakin' night). And the way my luck would have it, even though it's calls we can take at home, I'm at 100% for having to go back into the hospital during the night for a new patient or something going on with a current patient. My body is exhausted, sick and dehydrated, and my emotions are fried. When I'm finally able to break away and come home I'm torn between my need to sleep, eat, cry, go to the bathroom, or spend desperately valuable time with Owen and Jason. That doesn't even touch the things I "want" to do: cook, buy groceries, watch the news, buy something for this neglected baby I'm carrying, clean the house we're trying to sell, do laundry, buy my husband a birthday present (especially because his birthday was May 14th), call my parents, hang out with friends who are moving away, go on a date with my husband, take Owen to the zoo, go to church, get a haircut, buy a few more maternity clothes that actually fit this ever-expanding belly, etc... Not that I'm frustrated or bitter or anything. Ahh, the life of an intern. Honestly though, I couldn't make it a second more than 14 days and a few hours. The count down has begun.

whew... that felt good to get off my chest. sorry for being such a debbie-downer. i hate being so negative, so here's a little something that will make anyone smile...