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Jesus, I still suck. I've been meaning to, and meaning to, sit down--full up of write--and do some vital space maintenance, cleaning out some of the biggest, bulkiest bits of crap in my brain. But first there were friends in town, and then it was beautiful with much snowshoeing to be done, and then there is work, which is terrifyingly real and official and I can no longer hide under the guise of student but am now, quite suddenly, trusted practicioner. And. And I lay awake at night thinking jesus fuck did I document that I saw such and such in so and so's file, good god what if the eight year old with the belly pain who got added in as my last patient of the day has some whopping intussusception and the xrays I sent her for will essentially be worth nothing but a law suit since I won't be back in the office again until the end of the week and by then she'll surely have perished or had her entire intestines emergently removed? Or oh fuck me I swear I did that PAP smear all wrong and I'm going to have to call her and tell her to come back because the lab report will essentially say You Suck at Finding The Cervix. Please Try Again.

And then again today, which is so snowy and lovely and I fell back asleep this morning in my bed, dreaming of being back in Brooklyn--when half of my days were spent in sleep, fitfully recovering from itchy, achey 36 hour shifts in that tired, old, broke down hospital--such that I woke up wanting bagels and my old neighbor to come down stairs so we could brew tea and sit in bare feet in my living room watching the snow fall and listening to the quiet and deafening roar of the city.