Moment of Weakness

Five months through, and it feels like I've been doing this job for a lifetime.

I've forgotten what it's like to live a normal life. But vague remembrances of a life forgotten in the sleepy yesteryear of time still linger, and it is for them my unconscious yearns.

Somewhere along hour 8 of 12 in the operating room today I sighed. I wished that I could wake up with sunlight outside, or if not that see daylight as I left work every once in a while. Today I left the hospital again in darkness. I wished that I could go home and actually cook the food I want to eat, instead of hurriedly grabbing a bite at the hospital before and after my shift. I wished that I actually had time to talk to my friends and family more than I did the OR front desk or the patients on our service. I wished that I could sleep so that I didn't spend every waking moment wondering when I could get back to bed. We come home to empty rooms and empty tables, dark corridors and cold floors. Life gets better after this year they say. But for now it's dark, and I've long forgotten the light of the sun.