Broken Record

Here I am again, counting down the hours until my shift ends and I can catch a flight to see my man. It's tortuous. The hours seem to drag by, as if in complete defiance of my selfish desire to rush the evening along. I want nothing more than for this night to be over, the clock to strike seven, and my relief to arrive. It doesn't help that I'm mentally and physically exhausted, navigating this shift in a zombie-like state of utter indifference. It's been the same patients, with the same issues, and same medications for seven shifts in a row. It's the dreaded ICU treadmill, and, in truth, I'm just over it. All exhaustion aside, I'm ready to be home, to relax on MY couch, and fall into the arms of my long-distance husband.

After Australia, I thought I would be done with this nonsense. I really didn't foresee myself revisiting this scenario ever again, especially after returning to Denver. But life and the lure of travel-nursing happen, interfering with my love life, and forcing me into old habits. I remember counting down the hours, just like this, so many times during my stint Down-Under, and now I just feel like a broken record.

This is the life I continue to choose for myself, though, so I must take the bad along with the good. Every adventure has its price. I may miss my Mouse, and spend many nights pining for him, but I am also reaping the benefits of this latest assignment. (I must repeat this mantra over and over.)

Soon, the sun will peak over the horizon, and this dreaded shift will come to a close. I'll board the plane and wake to find myself descending into the Rockies. And then the real fun begins...