Wednesday, 22 September 2010


It's Murphy's Law that on the nights that you feel you most need to sleep that your adorable child will wake at least 4 times, and that at dawn will start singing with the birds. An amendment to this law is that the day following is guaranteed to require much mental and emotional energy that the lack of sleep will suck from you, leaving you a quivering mess.

I woke up this morning in a fog, my brain sticky and slow, the effort of crawling out of bed having me almost in tears of fatigue before I had put my feet on the floor. It was cool and grey, splodgy raindrops pattering against the glass, calling me to curl up and sleep for a few blissful dreamless hours. But instead I got up, showered with my forehead against the tiles and then robotically prepared my daily green salad, slicing myself as I attempted to cut a wedge of lime for dressing.

The best barometer for my mood on these sorts of days are my shoes - the more miserable I am the more cheerful my shoes. It's an inversely proportional relationship such that I will wear my back torturing patent red leather stilettos on my very worst days, so that no matter how bad I feel, I can always look at my shoes and smile.

Today's shoes were black and sequinned, sparkling with every step I take, glittering and shining. And I was so glad for them as the day progressed. It was such a hard day.

I held so many hands today, looked into eyes and saw fear and had to allay it. Made small jokes that brought smiles to faces. Comforted family members who couldn't cry any more, and needed someone to do it for them. I wrote up complicated drug regimens and carefully explained them, why these drugs, why these combinations. I tried not to over identify and failed. I tried not to think of my grandmother and failed. And I was so tired that occasionally I had to just stare at my shoes for a while until I could catch my breath.

As I walked home in the dampness of a sunless afternoon I tried to focus on my shoes as the tinies rays of afternoon light struggled beneath the clouds and reflected off my shoes. Watched the birds swoop low as they found their roosts for the night as the Scrub turkeys scratched away at the ground, and looked for things to feel grateful for.

And so this is my walk home.

HA! And to top off a truly fucking awful day I just got called twice by switch to try and convince me I was rostered on call tonight - for an area of the hospital I'm not even working in. Twice.

Know what? I don't give a motherfucking flying duck what the roster says, I'm not coming in to cover that shift.

Thank you and Goodnight.

1 comment:

MultipleMum said...

Your writing is beautiful. It does not transfer your mood onto me, although describes it perfectly. Sucky day but instead you make me smile (the shoe equation) and my heart opens a little (to your sadness) and I feel some yearning (for your writing ability). I hope tomorrow is better for you. Turn your pager off!


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