This is me, today, after working on call all weekend. I swear, I didn't even know my own name by the time I got home this morning. Why is it that the older I get, the less I am able to tolerate sleep deprivation? I can recall days upon end with barely any sleep, an hour caught in the car between nursing school classes, clinical and my night job at the psych hospital. I functioned just fine. Maybe I just was so caught up in ME that I didn't realize how it was affecting my moods, behavior, judgement. Wow. Certainly not the case now! I go into every work weekend with notebook in hand, and write down EVERYTHING I possibly can. By Sunday morning I'm functioning on caffeine alone, and willpower, dammit!
I did good work this weekend. I was thorough, helped some people get comfortable and pain free, helped a couple of families feel much better about the care they were giving and the status of their loved one, and even had the honor of being there to hold the hand of someone crossing over to the other side. For that moment alone, I'd do the whole weekend again. If only I could find a job that was all hand holding, care and comfort and hugs, and NO paperwork! argh! The bane of my existence! (Thanks spell check, I wanted to spell that bain) On the other side of the weekend, I slept half of my day off, the other half, this am, spent answering emails and questions about events over the weekend... I'm moody cranky and intolerant of noise or bullshit. Just bit my husbands head off. (There's blood everywhere) I think back to bed is where I should go. Knee isn't holding up that well. NSAIDS help, but have my tummy a little topsy turvy. We leave for NY on Friday. Need to pack, and find a dress. oh ugh. Shoes too. Screw it, I think I'll just buy new Tevas :D
Can't find my check that I finally got from HD. groan! Yeah, bed. That's it. Game over. Restart tomorrow.