ﾐA彡 and I have been married for two months now!

From what I understand, no matter how you spin it, a lot of voters in the Leave camp are anti-immigrant.

Between Donald Trump and the Brexit (not to mention all the other ultranationalist populist movements in Europe) sometimes I feel like Western Civilization is in terminal decline.

As my iPod decides to play some songs from female Canadian singer-songwriters back-to-back, I ponder over how I should probably be ashamed that some of these songs are on my iPod. And I wonder, was Carly Rae Jepsen directly influenced by Avril Lavigne? Was Avril Lavigne directly influenced by Alanis Morissette? Are these the only female Canadian singer-songwriters I actually know?

I seriously haven't been able to concentrate on anything today. I wonder if I just had way too much caffeine today. Or maybe I still haven't recovered from sleeping only for four hours Sunday night. Whatever the reason, it doesn't look like I'll be writing anything substantive tonight.

It's been a couple of days already and I'm still obsessing about a fairly vivid dream I had. I think I need to sit down and reflect a little, and maybe write out some of my thoughts when I have more time. We'll see if that actually happens today.

Even this late out into the game, I find myself still hoping for a reprieve from a life devoid of tender companionship, a life destined to loneliness and continued struggle.

That is most of it, being a physician—listening and seeing. The rest is technique.

Found on Gura’s Blog:

Gorked is a word we like to throw around the emergency department and the hospital wards from time to time. In our general usage of the term, it basically means someone who is non-responsive, generally comatose (as opposed to mere altered mental status/delirium.) In some ways, it has an iatrogenic connotation to it, as it is sometimes used to describe patients who are inadvertantly rendered unresponsive due to excessive dosing of medication (although the more common terminology for this condition is snowed) or unresponsive because of a bad clinical outcome, such as massive stroke, brain hemorrhage, post-code brain (so called because this is what tends to happen when they call a code blue [cardiac and/or respiratory arrest emergency] and it takes more than 8 minutes to get you back, meaning that there is bigtime hypoxic-ischemic brain injury—no oxygen or bloodflow to the brain), or post-bypass brain (which is usually a lot more subtle, and usually has psychiatric qualities to it, but occasionally, someone who gets a coronary artery bypass graft—abbreviated as CABG and affectionately pronounced like “cabbage”—gets gorked.)

I feel utterly tired and spent. I have spent the last two weeks living an unnatural existence, forced to try to sleep during the day and stay awake at night. I can almost imagine my adrenal glands screaming, trying to pump out enough cortisol and epinephrine to keep me from crashing. After my last shift tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up sleeping until Monday.

Longing desperately for some inspiration