Mondays

Ah Mondays. How I loathe Mondays. I wake at 6:30am. The usual morning routine consisting of English Muffins, juice, and coffee, black. I skip shaving my teenage stubble. At the ripe age of 24, I still can't grow sideburns, a mustache or anything on my cheeks. I scramble to get to class at 8:00.

We wait, for about ten minutes to find out our teacher isn't showing up and that we're going to have to reschedule the class. Our test is this Friday, so that doesn't leave a lot of time to reschedule.

After studying for the next 2 and a half hours at the library I head up to my lecture on enlarged prostates. A gentle reminder of what all men will eventually deal with ensues.

Afterwards, I eat lunch and head over to the hospital I'm currently stationed at only to find out that my assigned patient was discharged this morning before I had a chance to interview him. I mutter under my breath and search for my tutor to be assigned another one. He's nowhere to be found, and he isn't answering his pages. Lovely.

I head back home, soaked by the heaviest rainfall we've seen all spring. My shoes and socks squish squash the whole way home. I change into some dry clothes, make a tea and proceed to write up the first case I interviewed. Not only are these things pointless to write up (the tutors don't even like reading/correcting them) but they waste a lot of time in the process. I love interviewing patients and examining them, but to have to write a report that does not resemble anything in any chart that I have ever read, quite frankly, seems stupid. I compare it to learning how to use a typewriter and all of its machinery when you know you're just going to be using a computer. Pointless.

I speak with the missus for a short while. Skype screws up and we have to switch to the phone.

After finishing the report, in what feels like eons but was really only 4 hours, I plant myself in front of my textbooks in an effort to not fail the upcoming exam. I become distracted quite quickly. I head to the washroom for a twenty minute relief and some recreational reading. I make some more tea and realize that my heartburn has returned but this time I have the antacids at the ready.

I watch the end of the hockey game (why are the playoffs always near exams?) and study some more before heading to bed surrounded by two weeks worth of unfolded laundry. The bed is cold and empty and the sound of rain outside is my companion instead of the gentle breathing of my girlfriend.

At 10pm, I get back out of bed after realizing that even though I'm tired, I'm wide awake (switched to decaf tea at 8pm). I hit the books in the hope that reading about liver disease will put me to sleep. I grind my teeth at the fact that tomorrow I have to interview another patient (which is fine) but have to write up another case report on said patient. I kept this last one short and sweet in the hopes that it will be adequate enough to please my tutor.

It's 10:45 and I feel the pass-out phase of studying sink in. It feels so good, almost naughty.