10 minutes. I only have 10 minutes to write. Rush rush rush. Push push push. Heart racing, mind racing, why is life so fast? When can I slow down? I wake up at 430 (well the alarm goes off then, today I snoozed until 455 let’s be honest). I fall into bed between 10 and 1030 no matter how hard I try to get into bed earlier. I’m busy from the second my feet walk in that clinic door until I pull into my garage at night.
Sometimes I sit in my car for a few minutes when I get home just to finish a few more lines of my audiobook, another verse of a song, a few moments to myself before I walk inside to my husband and children. They are getting older (even the husband ha ha) and they don’t run to greet me anymore. Sometimes they acknowledge my entrance, but years of feeling needed the minute I walk in seem to have conditioned me to want a tiny buffer from one pressure cooker to the other.
Not all days are that PUSHED and TIGHT. Sometimes work is a little less crazy and I can return a few texts or emails. Some days I can’t even relieve my bladder for hours. Thus is the life of a health care worker, now 25+ years in.
Comparison would trick me into thinking the business job at a desk and in meetings would be gravy, plenty of time to laugh annoyingly at colleagues’ lame jokes and browse my online shopping carts between calls or zooms. My email inbox would always be zero and I would have time to put my tasks in Asana or Trello or whatever those fancy luxuries of time management may be. I’ve never worked one second in corporate America so who am I kidding? That job may be way worse, and I don’t want to laugh at lame jokes.
I would rather debride a diabetic foot wound and die of thirst and only look at my phone if the kids’ school is calling. Or would I? Or would I rather be on a dock fishing with a cool breeze and a book in one hand? Would I rather be helping busy moms get their homes and papers organized? Would I rather be right here hunched over a laptop pouring my heart out?
Or would laughing at the lame jokes be worth the chance to wear professional clothing without fear of pandemic germs, lunch with coworkers out of the building, and pitch ideas that might actually make change. My watch alarm just went off, so I guess that’s to be continued. On to the next set of pap smears, cholesterol checks, and med refills. I like that too. I love it actually. It’s still fun to dream.