17th to 22nd September

Last few days have been quite busy, and I had occasions wherein I felt as if I had no time to do the things I want to do, such as write this blog.
Either time, or energy, or both.

Long story short, then -

17th, Saturday, I returned late from hospital after a pretty grueling work day.

18th to 19th, I spent 30 straight hours in the hospital, working alone to manage some 110 patients admitted under medicine at our hospital.
Fuckers call it a Super Sunday!

No deaths, however. So: Streak 1.

I spent most of 20th sleeping, I was too tired.

I had suspended reading for my fellowship the last couple of months, so on 21st I covered up my deadlines. Big boost to morale.

I had therapy on Monday - 19th - my therapist and I discussed suicide, and euthanasia, and hope, and hopelessness.

I told her that when I would be older, and breathing would be torturous, what happens if I can still not muster up the courage to kill myself?
After all, I already do feel that I've lived my life well enough. Why haven't I killed myself already?
Is it hope, that I am clinging on to? Even though I have nothing to look forward to?

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