What Day Is It?

Currently, I'm doing q3 trauma call. Meaning every 3rd day I work 26 hours dealing with people who come into the hospital shot, stabbed, drunks that fall down, etc. And fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, I'm currently living in one of the most violent cities in the US. And, yay! the syphilis capital. (Seriously.)

My last week has looked like this: 

Call Friday 6AM to Sat 8AM (slept for about an hour on my arm until it fell asleep), call Monday 6AM to Tues 8AM (ditto), Wed 9AM to 5PM, Thursday 6PM to Friday 6PM (maybe two hours of sleep overnight as since it was a school night, people fought the urge to beat each other up), and work again on Sunday from 9AM to 5PM. For those of you keeping track, that's 2 calls and one reverse call...meaning I've reversed my sleep wake cycle about 3 times in the last week. And then people wonder why napping, has turned into one of my favorite pastimes...

The beauty of q3 call is that every day is either pre-call, on call or post-call. Call really is an interesting phenomenon. At least for me. Precall, I eat everything in sight, get food ready for call and drink lots of water. The days I'm on call, I snack constantly, but there is a minimal amount of time for drinking water and bathroom breaks. I'm the tiny person with the "Keep Calm, Carry On" bag attached at my hip in the trauma unit. Post call, I'm always cold and extremely irritable. Like sand in your underwear after a day at the beach irritable. Sleep takes precedence over food, and pretty much everything else. 

I'm really not surprised that aside from a select few people, no one ever really calls me. They're right to assume that I'm either working or sleeping, and >95% of the time, they'd be correct. I actually got into an argument about this about a week ago with the guy I've been seeing. He's unlike anyone I've ever dated...he's not a New Yorker reading, gallery opening going pretentious prick. He works in real estate, DJs a radio station, and collects toys. But he's also the guy that has texted me good morning pretty much every day for the last almost two months and came down to visit me on my weekend off. He's the kind of guy that says what he means and means what he says. No pretenses and no bullshit.

Anyway, one day when I was post call, I realized I hadn't heard from him in two weeks. We had texted, but not actually talked, and so I did the only logical thing. I attempted to break up with him. I left him a very matter of fact voicemail saying that I felt like he hadn't been a part of my life. He called me right back, and of course he hadn't heard my voicemail. So I repeated everything I said before about how I felt he wasn't "there" for me, trying not to sound rehearsed or hysterical, and he says to me, "But I"m here for you now." There is still a spot in my apartment where I pretty much melted. 

And we talked. And talked some more. And the amazing thing is, he listened.

I'm thankful he didn't let me go.

I'm also thankful the hospital doesn't charge me rent.