graveyard shift

Time: 3:41 AM
Date: August 10, 2006
Day: Thursday
Place: Crisis
 
 
 
 
 
I’ve been working here going on only 8 days now.  My days and nights run together so much that it feels like one long, never-ending Arctic day.  I get here at 6pm for rounds that last until 6:30-7:00 when the day shift skedaddles.  I try to grab some dinner before 7:30 ’cause after then Idon’t stop.  Somedays I get an hour of sleep, others I wait until I get to my apt before I can close my eyes.  I don’t talk much to non-medical people.  I don’t have time.  When I leave here about 7:30am (after morning rounds), I get in my car, turn up Kirk Franklin’s "Hero" (thanks A^3) and ride 441 aka 7th Ave all the way up north to my quiet apt.  Around that time there isn’t much action going on and I greet the one or two early people who are off to work.  Pick up the mail, get in the house, take a shower, eat a little breakfast, work on the crossword puzzle for about half an hour while my body slows down from the adrenaline rush of seeing patient after patient after patient.
 
 
 
 
 
 
It’s strange being here so late.  When we have consults and I go across the street to the main hospital I wonder what the rest of the world is doing.  It’s dark, empty and warm.  I’m always on the alert so that I can be aware if I have to run from someone.  During those late night walks, I wonder what it must be like to be on graveyard shift all the time.  I don’t know.  The world is skewed for daytime.  When you’re on the night shift it’s mighty hard to run any kind of errands–go to the bank, buy groceries etc.  You have to wait until your shift is over for the week.  In my case, I work Sun-Thursday (6P-6A).  They are humane enough to give us Friday am-Sun afternoon off. 

 

 
 
 
 
 
Last weekend I slept, ate and danced.  It was good to get out of the apt on Saturday.  We got a bit lost on our way up to Ft Lauderdale and the rain didn’t help any.  When we finally made it to Cafe Iguana, we were three black women in what looked like an all Far East Asian and caucasian club pulsating with techno beats.  We paid $5 each and I for one started to dancing ’cause hey, that’s money!  Thank God that the music changed after 1:30ish and they started playing hip-hop and reggae!  Surely I got my groove on yall!  I spent a great deal of the night dancing with Jose–and man could Jose dance!  It was really nice to get the body moving, the endorphins flowing and to dance with someone who could actually dance!  He didn’t ask me to show him any moves.  He didn’t have a beer in his hand, slurring his words and trying to grind my fineness.  Nope, he was sober, a great dancer and cute to boot.

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
I tried to start up a convo with him but after a while, it fizzled and again, I surely didn’t pay $5 to stand around next to some guy who wasn’t trying to parlez.  The other two ladies also found themselves some dance pardners and we’re gonna hit up South Beach this Saturday. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I just heard that four planes had been shut down on their way from Britain to the States secondary to possible terrorist attack.  Dang! America, America, God is blessing you!  Imagine the devastation if those planes had made it here?  Imagine.  Carry-ons and liquids are now forbidden.  Wow.  Welcome to the new millenia!

About papillion

Intense Often Moody Transparent Exquisitely sensitive Animated Never satisfied Curious Eternal Romantic Creative Devotedly Christian Encouraging Multi-layered Loving Quick Judge Critical Forever evolving View all posts by papillion

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