A Series Of Existential And Not-So-Existential Everyday Crises

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You wake up at 0830. Another 8.5 hour sleep thanks to a sedating antihistamine. You haven’t slept without them for the last eight weeks since starting your rotation as an after-hours doctor. A pharmacist at work told you to try temazepam. You question their intentions.

It’s 0930. You lolled around in bed for an hour, mouth as dry as an atrophic vagina thanks to the Phenergan and eyes half closed. You’re so drowsy that you might as well have not slept at all. You get up and go to the kitchen. You want coffee but you’ve been trying to wean yourself off your newfound three-a-day habit. You’re over the feeling of constantly needing to shit when ingesting that much coffee and you don’t want your teeth to turn brown. You drink some organic rooibos. It tastes like South African dirt.

It’s 1045. The two denim jackets you ordered online are delivered. You feel judged by the delivery man for wearing pajamas at 1045 on a Wednesday. You wish he would have just left the package outside without ringing the bell. You thank him and take your denim jackets inside. You ordered two because you like to cast your net wide and not because your online shopping addiction is growing exponentially. One of the jackets has the stupidest sleeves you’ve ever seen. You wonder what kind of eejit designed this disgusting item.

It’s 1130. You drink another cup of tea. You pee. Your mouth is still dry. You eat some cashew butter from the jar with some stale crackers. You listen to Wafia on repeat. You swipe on Bumble. You wonder why there are so many plumbers and geologists on this app. The geologists make a lot of jokes about rocking your world. You wonder if you should change your profile to include a joke about your prostate exams. You decide against it.

It’s 1215. You officially have work in less than two hours and the countdown begins. You roll out your yoga mat and stretch out your pelvic floor. Child’s pose, happy baby pose. You wonder what the delivery man would think of this.

1300. You cook some food. The bok choy you bought one week ago has turned yellow and mushy. You try to cut off the parts that have gone bad and are left with two leaves. You roast some broccoli instead and the floor is littered with green specks from your cutting board. You eat the broccoli and wonder if you eat too much fiber in one day. You do eat a lot of fiber. Maybe it’s not the coffee after all.

It’s 1330. You change into your work clothes and pack your pockets with gum, Chapstick and enough lollies to sustain your blood sugar level throughout your shift. This can’t be healthy. You ponder this as you drive to work. It’s pouring outside and you smile as you see someone’s umbrella flip inside out as they walk down the street. You’re a bad person.

It’s 1400. You work. It’s 1700. Someone cries when you cannulate them. You try to appear sympathetic. It’s 1900. You’ve eaten four lollies. Someone else is febrile. You wish they weren’t. Someone down the corridor is tachycardic. You wish they weren’t. It’s 1901. Your pager goes off. It’s 1902. Your pager goes off. It’s 1903. Your pager mysteriously loses its battery.

It’s 1904. You put the battery back in because you fear the medicolegal implications. You eat another Starburst.

2000. You drink a coffee.

2120. You leave work, drive home and eat a lot of hummus. You lie in bed and try to read Anton Chekhov but give up after 10 minutes. Instead, you watch a really educational YouTube video about plant-based veganism and decide you will never become a plant-based vegan.

It’s 2330. Your fingers start to twitch for the Phenergan. You try to practice relaxation techniques and mindful breathing.

0000. You take a Phenergan and fall asleep within 15 minutes. TC mark

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