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Wednesday was pretty horrendous. I was doing that half-asleep&dreaming thing you do when you haven't quite reached the walking-into-walls stage but are considering it just because you would get to lie down for a moment. I kind of sleepwalked out around 5:30, went straight home and read for an hour or so (biking revs me back up a little, so even though I can't think straight I still can't fall asleep right away when I get home). The sleeplessness also meant I was in no state to handle three and a half days with no communication from Ix, but so tired I really just wanted sleep. I figure I had an immediate sleep debt of 14 hours, since I had two weeks of staying up late and no good sleep over the weekend.

I slept for 11 hours and woke up a bit tired, but functional. Way more functional than I'd been all week, as I realized when I went to the clinic and discovered there'd been a miscommunication about the discharges...whoops. Whatever state of incompletion I'd left them in, they were worse than the resident had expected. And being the sort of...hmm, control freak is definitely not the right word to use here...being the sort of driven individual most residents have to be to survive their education, she had finished the discharges with high polish. They were really beautiful discharges when she was done with them, and I have to admit I was secretly glad I got to see how exactly she writes them when not working around the constraints of student workmanship.

And since I was actually halfway rested, I was able to bear up under the shame/humiliation/learning opportunity without breaking into tears.

Today my insides decided they hated the world despite have gotten a second full night of sleep. I gave up on working in the super-busy ward and took my case file to the lounge, which has comfy couches on which one can sit in innard-placating positions while continuing to work. So that was a good decision. I helped another student with her discharge today too. I like very much the helping-with-discharges. I feel smarter, not so much with the being able to spell (which is an inexplicable and occasionally fallible skill), but with the being able to explain things. In english. Not medicalese.

I like it so much I have to keep reminding myself that most people will never read the discharges, and it's more important how well you practice medicine. But still. Words, eee!
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Sleep eludes me. Yesterday it was on-call, today was sketching, what will it be tomorrow?

On the yay! side, I finished all my discharges. There were three and a half, never mind the half was the same patient come back in again for more tests. I will see a CT scan tomorrow! CT scans are actually pretty boring, but this time I will be smart and hang out with the radiologists during the scan. Last time I missed out on all the analysis.

Ah, and that smells like my beet-carrot medley is boiling over. I had to cook them tonight or go vegetableless tomorrow.
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This essay is kicking my butt. I need to explain my academic ambitions (stay in school! Get degree! Get another degree!), my personal achievements (dance! art! crazy diets backed by a modicum of critical thinking and science!) and how the scholarship will help me (it would pay half of my tuition for one year). Alas, I keep wanting to tell the story of how I diagnosed myself, which doesn't actually fit very well into the 1-2 page limit. >.<

It didn't help that I slept terribly this morning and lost three hours this afternoon because I was napping/reestablishing that I am not an awful, awful person because I doodled during lecture. Granted, I did doodle a LOT, but still, we try not to consider it a moral failing on par with committing felonies. It's hard to remember, though, when the sleep deprivation and the prednisone-tapering-process is blowing everything out of proportion. It was their fault in the first place, anyway.

The good news is that when I stormed into the apartment, in the sort of mood where one feels perfectly justified in flinging oneself at walls, my garbled "I'm in a bad mood and if you don't like it you can go to campus!" did not freak out Ix. It did not offend him either. Apparently, he was just really, really perplexed and had no idea what I was talking about.

June 2014

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