Tonight I was rolling down Ponce de Leon in 3 a.m. style (which means unobstructed by any other traffic whatsoever) when I heard that song, "
Don't Bring me Down" on the radio. Yes, by ELO.
"You're lookin good just like a snake in the grass.
One of these days you're gonna break your glass.
don't bring me down-
no no no no no no no no.
Who can forget that jam? All that snake imagery? Free snakes, captured snakes... Dang.
I can't forget it, try as I might. It's a JAM. Then guess what came on?
Burning down the house. And then
It's the End of the World as we know it and I feel fine.
Hear me out a moment. I remember Dean Eley recounting a story about his intern year in Lecture Room 110, and to emphasize the point he was making about how tired and overworked he had been he said, "I hadn't had a creative thought in three months." It's been considerably less than three months for me, but it's true - intern year is about work. Hard work, work you are not sure how to do, and in my case work that won't let me get to sleep once my head hits the pillow at any odd hour.
Here's what happens when I try to go to sleep: I recycle procedures and patients again and again. I dreamed that Dr. Dente gave me a cholecystectomy without consenting me. I looked down upon myself from a Gross-clinic-esque riser in a dim room as I, insensate, had my gallbladder out at the hands of Dr. Dente, who in real life taught me cholecystectomy as a med student. I dreamed about decapitated twins that did great after surgery. I dreamed about inserting a line again and again and again like Sisyphus and the stone. Lots of times I only half-sleep, eyes closed but roving with my brain over all the stuff I did that day. Often I wake up and check stuff in the computer in the middle of the night. I called the attending at 3 a.m. night before last to tell her I'd forgotten to print a prescription before I left. She scolded me and told me not to call for such insignificant details again; I should be asleep. But this is how I am wired. I have to get through this until it gets easier. To quote a different genre of song, "
It's like that. And that's the way it IS." I do not have creative thoughts; I have perseverative problem-solving thoughts.
So the three songs whipped me back to different times and different places all in the space of a ride home. These times: Riding on a sticky-hot vinyl car seat with my mom at the wheel. Running through a talent show routine over and over with Anbar. Dancing in a Kroger parking lot with Erin. Three songs later, time and space had contracted enough for me to see out of this week's box for a moment.
But now I am home to my sleeping sweet family and hoping to get to sleep and just sort it all out in dreams with none of that waking-up-in-a-panic stuff.
By the way, it IS the end of the world as we know it. Always such flux.
Also, don't cry for me argentina because last night I actually dreamed that I was choosing the most bestest kitten from a big room full of amazingly cute and personable kittens. Obviously I can't be TOO stressed.
