Writing

Writing with an external keyboard and an ipad isn’t as cumbersome as, say, with a pencil clenched in one’s teeth on paper. But for me, it’s enough to dissuade me from trying to write a ton for November. Every time I consider it, the amount of writing diminishes, a thousand words a day - ugh... maybe 500? Every other day? As the right hand side of the page disappears, I roll my eyes and recalculate down.

Dylan’s desk at his desktop is set up for him, and I am overcome by the little annoyances. Subtraction ensues.


I love to write, but I am not driven to. I have to make the mechanics of it easy to get results. Writing is what I do for comfort, and clarity. When it’s too much work, when it drains me rather than fills me, I stop. Because lemme tell you, this week, I have very little reserve. Pain drags on me.

As we were finishing up our short day, no one eager to leave before 2, the last room cleaned en mass, 8 of us walking out through the core began a chorus of Bye! Byeeeee! Byeeeeeeee! Increasing in intensity and silliness, until we were all giggling. A spontaneous, improvised moment of absurdity. I love that we can be silly together.

My surgeon yesterday is also one of the most dryly sarcastic people I know. I’m not used to the people I work with ‘getting’ my humor, which normally I lay out there solely to amuse myself. That DrC sees it and reacts to it in kind throws me off a bit. Then I laugh, but it takes a second or two. When he jokes, it takes me a few seconds to be certain he is not serious.

Being able to laugh, and sing and dance while on the clock, well, it’s wonderful. Our patients don’t see it, or the drugs mean they won’t remember. Comeraderie.

We also have to know when to drop it in an instant and focus on the job.