Med Student | Musician | Traveler
It's been a big 24 hours.
I helped an unconscious man breath at 2am while they got ready to put a tube down his throat.
I told a mother that, yes, it's going to be alright.
I told a young man - not much younger than me - that his hand would be as good as new in no time. Reassure. Comfort. Divert.
I drove home from the Emergency department in the pre-dawn light gelatinous with fatigue and collapsed onto the camping mattress that takes up the corner of my small room.
Before all that, I drove my dear girlfriend to the airport and waved her goodbye. She is like the first crisp breath of air when you open the window on a winter's morning. She has eyes as bright as a newly pressed penny, and a smile that is cute as a button, but I won't be seeing either for a few months.
At least I know what I'll be dreaming of.
I confirmed with a hospital in a developing nation that they will host me for a stint, and booked a one-way ticket overseas, hoping to ask the medical school for forgiveness instead of permission should my plans go awry. I organised to take my final exams for surgery, medical specialties, and critical care over summer in London, trusting I will find someway to get there, and some place to stay.
So after a night shift in ED and a day of life admin, I'm now lying awake when I should be sleeping, playing through the melodies that hum away quietly in my head as I wander through my days.
Nothing so solid as a song, just music.
The kind of music that sits at the center of me. Some days it is dark and morose, while others it may be as brisk and lively fiddler's jig.
Today it is calm and reassuring, but insistent. Solid. It has a sense of progress that is keeping me up.
It's one of my favourite reasons to lose sleep.
What an extraordinary, ordinary day.
Med Student. Musician. Traveler.