The Obsolete Need To Sleep

I don’t believe in claims of association between pasta, curses and crises. And so the longest sleep I’ve had in the past four weeks lasted two hours. Otherwise, the division between today and tomorrow often is indicated by a wink, a yawn or a weary sigh. A new day begins. The hours stretch on to the 36th or 40th, or onto the minute when the conjunctivae have been completely injected, and the innervation of the orbital apparatus slowed down in concession to the call of sleep. Exhausted has become a redundant fact made not very readily obvious to the naïve passersby because of the drive of necessity and outstanding resilience of the lowly forms.

And it is precisely because of this presumed resilience that Clerkship has been structured to be often unforgiving at times.  Deadlines cave in like massive walls.  As they draw closer, what scarce time to be spared must be stretched to fulfill the requirements needed to sail through the day.

Internship has only just begun, but this chapter has been dragging on for too long now. But thank you for asking randomly after my health, anonymous doctor (I’ve never met you before).  In that brief encounter, however singular, when you saw me steal some sleep in the elevator, with a half a hotdog consumed in one hand, a stack of documents in the other, you reminded me that all things will pass with time, like time, and in time.

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