Gone is the pain of hearing my boss say, "No matter how you do your hair, you're still the same shitty intern". Gone is the tension from seeing my supreme boss roll his eyes during my ward audit. Fatigue and ennui? Washed away. Hunger and rage? Melted into happiness.
Sleep has knitted my ravelled sleeve of care, and just in time; I have to go Christmas shopping today.
The thing about being in Australia for Christmas is that it doesn't feel right. Sure, the shops have decorations up and people are singing carols, but it's bright. Sunny. The days are long and hot. According to my internal clock, Christmas is a time of dark, cold and wearing soft sweaters. Hence, it's not Christmas.
Yesterday, as I was bent over a patient trying to coax a drip into his arm, I heard a choir singing carols. St V's being a Catholic hospital, they go all out; our ward is decorated, our website says "Merry Christmas" and all the Jews are working Christmas day. My patient, who has air bubbles collecting under his skin from a previous lung rupture, started singing along to "Silent Night" as I finally got blood. That was the moment I thought, "Oh it's Christmas."
And then immediately thought, "Shit, I have to go shopping".
Anyways, I suppose there are two points to this:
1. I have to readjust my perception of what Christmas is.
2. I really really love my sleep.
From the land down under, where presents are delivered by Skippy the Bush Kangaroo, Happy Christmas.
As Adolphus the Ass Monkey would repeatedly tell us
ReplyDelete"The only people who fear Hell are those who don't realize they are already there".
An old lady calls the Police to complain that a Surgeon is running naked down the street..
the Policeman asks " If he is naked , how do you know he is a Surgeon ?"
The old lady replies " because he has a great big scalpel and a little tiny dick".
Love your blog, MANGA DOLL.