stress

     I've never been a great sleeper. I figured working long, grueling hours would make sleep a pretty simple proposition. After all, it's one of the top three priorities of residency, along with food and showering. But I wake up with nightmares. I wake up thinking about my patients. I have trouble falling asleep despite being exhausted. So, I fall back on to what I've used ever since my brother was diagnosed. I lift heavy things and set them back down. It transforms the anger and as a consequence, I fall asleep eating. This hand is what stress looks like. Mala beads as an ever present physical reminder of where I've been, who I am, and to never lose my humanity. Chalk covering my hands to keep the bar from slipping. The spiritual and the simple physicality.