The Full Forty

So this week I started working full time again. My body is unhappy with getting up hours before the usual time, but not as unhappy as I'd dreaded. This week I have been going to bed mostly on time. Except when I was reading _The Thirteenth Tale_ and I could barely pull myself away. More about that in the next post.

I had some concern that I wouldn't have enough to do to fill forty hours a week. I had forgotten how much busier mornings are than afternoons. In addition, people who were not giving me afternoon work before are now doing it because I'm more likely to be able to schedule something at six hours' notice than at one hour's notice. With a whole day available it is much simpler to fit things in, because many tasks are flexible in their timing.

But the highlight of the week was puking in a patient's yard while helping her pack for inpatient care. I have never puked outdoors before, because I don't get alcohol poisoning now and didn't get it in college either. Since I was not intoxicated, I was aware of the social milieu and therefore profoundly embarrassed. To use a social work word, it was "inappropriate." The patient was so nice about it that I was doubly ashamed of myself. She said something about rain being in the forecast and being sure it would be gone by the time she got home. Isn't it funny how some people while ill are gracious even when they feel irritable, and some people are uncivil when they are at the height of health?