So last night I started singing gospel to myself on call again. This time I think there is something to however. It wasnt just boredom, or tiredness, or just what I had in my head. But there’s something about singing “For this I give you praise…for waking me this morning” when all you see all night are those who may not have that privilege. I find that in hospitals, while we become more cynical about alot of things, while we may not have the luxury of hope, or time, or peace, we also have the opportunity to selive at its rawest: at it’s grittiest. We see when the rubber meets the road, when shyt just got real, when it could be the very end or very beginning of life. We see the fight that humanity has for eachother- when you haven’t slept, when you haven’t eaten, when you know absolutely nothing about this person, or when you know everything- and that everything isn’t good. We see people stripped of their dignity: peeing and shytting in tubes and cups and blood and guts coming out of every orifice; when they need machines and people they don’t know to survive and they are ready to grasp on to whatever it is they need for that survival. We see people fight to live, and we see people give up. And there is no shame in that, sometimes. Yesterday night I saw 4 trauma cases for car accidents, one gun shot wound, one suspect stabbing. I saw new life die, inside, I saw every one in that room- who I thought had desensitized and they do this everyday stop when that ultrasound had no heart beat and look down. We collected ourselves, and pushed forward to save the lives we could. I just about cried myself to sleep. And then I slept for 2.5 hrs and I’m up to look at new pts. So you see, it’s not that we don’t feel your pain- don’t see it, we do. Hence, Notes for today: live like it’s a privilege.