Kids were up early. Mommy and daddy slept in. Big sister made breakfast for herself and brothers (read: juice box, cheese and yogurt). Only decaffeinated coffee left. Hustled everyone in the car. Late for school drop-off. Drove to shopping center. Ahh …. coffee.
I am sitting in a salon chair finally getting my hair done. It desperately needs some help and this was the only time I could fit it in. I
work this afternoon and then I am off for almost three weeks.
Three more hours of patient visits to go.
Three more hours of lab reports, consults and prescription renewals.
Three more hours of dealing with other people’s problems.
Yesterday I started to worry that I was getting depressed again. I suddenly just felt … I don’t know, I felt off. I felt like I just didn’t care about any of it anymore. I didn’t want to go home and face the chaos of trying to clean and pack and deal with the kids.
But then I got home and amongst the chaos and dirty faces and piles of laundry to fold, I felt immensely better. I was happy to be home. I can’t begin to describe how reassuring that was to feel. Despite the state of emergency that my house is currently in, I was happy to be home and in the middle of it.
I don’t need a break from my family, house or kids. I need a break from work.
I’m so fried right now, I can barely think straight.
The “baby” has learned how to climb out of his crib. He’ll be 2 next month. I’m not ready for him to be in a big-boy bed but he’s at risk for fracturing something if he keeps this up. And speaking of up, since he’s discovered this little trick, when he wakes up at 6am he no longer talks to himself in the crib. He gets out of this crib, opens his door and comes to my room. This morning he discovered there were monkeys on his pajamas.
“Yes, monkey,” I reply half-asleep.
(Louder) MOMMY!!!!! Monkey!!
(LOUDER) “DADDY!!! DADDDY! Monkey!”
“MOMMY! I hugry. Mommy! I HUGRY!”
“Too early for breakfast,” I mutter.
“DADDY! I hugry!”
“Okay,” in a very deep sleepy voice.
This goes on for about 10 minutes. I finally get up to get the kid some milk and the other two spawn are coming out of their room all bright-eye and bushy-tailed.
They are all smiles, “Hi Mommy! Can we go downstairs?”
Further to my post yesterday, I haven’t had any extended time off from my practice since July, 2014. When my receptionist pointed that out to me, I was kind of surprised. I’ve taken a few long weekends here and there but yeah, I haven’t really had a break from my job in well over a year.
It’s no wonder I’m a little cranky.
My older colleagues regularly take a month off every summer and at least a week or two in the winter. They can afford to do so as their children are now all grown up and out of the house. I am not in that position yet. I still have a mortgage and other debt to pay off and I wonder sometimes if I ever will?
I love my job but it’s hard to listen to other people’s problems day in and day out. Most of the time I can help solve the problem; here’s an antibiotic for tonsillitis; here’s a pill for your awful irregular periods, or here’s a great physiotherapist for your chronic ankle sprain. If that was the extent of the problems I would be fine without a regular holiday. But it’s not like that in family medicine. In family medicine I see the wife who found out her husband is having an affair; I see the schizoaffective patient off their meds; I see the teenager with anger management issues displaying cluster B traits (borderline personality disorder) who bounces from one psych unit t to the next; I see the elderly woman with memory problems who doesn’t remember she has memory problems.
I am privy to the knowledge that a wife plans to leave her husband, who is also my patient and is about to be blindsided. I am privy to the knowledge of a history of horrific childhood abuse and the subsequent psychological damage that does to a person. I am privy to the knowledge that a 40-something year old man really wants to be a woman.
It is a privilege to be these people’s family physician, it really is.
I am 29 weeks pregnant. Hard to believe how fast this pregnancy is going. Baby is very active and so far this pregnancy has been very similar to the other two, except for the occasional brutal bouts of heartburn.
But can I just complain for a moment?
I am tired. Bone tired. Despite at least 8 hours of solid, uninterrupted sleep (except when I have to change sides w/ my body pillow), I am exhausted by 11am. Like, I could fall asleep at my desk between seeing patients exhausted. This makes me nervous because it’s just the beginning of the 3rd trimester – there is still a lot of time left and if I’m already this tired? I don’t even want to think about it.
I am so tired that I can’t even work on my cross-stitching in the evenings. After dinner, I recline on the couch, my cat comes for snuggles and an hour or two later I’m dozing and ready for bed.
Did I mention that the occasional nap doesn’t help either? Oy.
I walk as much as I can, for as long as I can. Inevitably, the lower back stiffness kicks in and I have to stop, or it’s a particularly hot and humid day and I just can’t physically muster the energy to keep going. I miss running. Oh, how I miss running. Part of me wishes I hadn’t stopped but I had to listen to my body and at the time, during the peak of the fatigue of the first trimester, I just couldn’t.
Have I mentioned it’s taken me 5 days to write this post?!