Across the screen float up semi-transparent strings in poor focus. Floaters. A consequence of myopic vision and likely tired eyes as I stare blankly at the last clinic note from today. Getting notes done is easier at clinic than at home- the monitors are wide, the keyboards are crisp, and at my right there’s a Philips dictaphone that I use frequently.
But I cant bring myself to come back home quite yet and start the second shift.
Yes, I *could* rush home and enjoy 1 hour of uninterrupted silence before the pressure, admixed with the desire, to pick up my children from daycare. My children are my life; I would take a bullet for the both of them, but if the period from 4-8 PM doesn’t both fill and drain my soul I don’t know what else does.
Also I did not bring the car today, so we will have to either get the bus home or ask my husband to come pick me up at work. I do not really feel like doing either at this point.
After working all day intently listening to patients, guiding them through decision making, assuading their fears, and being 100% present, I have to be even more so for my children, and there is only so much of me that is available to spend. At home there are tears, whining, giggles, dried potatoes, snot, drool, more snot, bubbles, stories we’ve read a thousand times over, and moments that I know are all too fleeting.
On Instagram I see that my work friends hanging out together, and I have the audacity to feel left out, knowing that I do almost nothing myself to be sociable, and even if I were invited out the answer would have most likely been “sorry, I’ve got to watch the kids.”
My life is intentional, desired, chosen. But still sometimes lonely.
Med-Derm, MD 