last year's wishes are this year's apologies
I HATE YOU, RENAL. I HATE YOU. I am missing the match between the top two teams in La Liga for you, because I have to turn in this stupid handwritten paper tomorrow and also have to sleep. I know I always say that I'll sleep when I'm dead, but short list of things that change that: 1. five months of terrible insomnia, and 2. FOUR MONTHS OF UNBEARABLE TWITCHING MENTAL-INSTABILITY-INDUCING INSOMNIA. Also, 3. med school. I mean, screw you, renal. The other team isn't even Real Madrid.
Also an incidental fuck you to everyone who says that to be a doctor you have to be able to not let your patients hang over you after work or something like that, because apparently there is no difference between not letting emotional ties get in the way of making decisions re: the patient's health and not caring about the patient at all. I would say "not caring about the patient beyond work" but just because it's work doesn't mean it's not personal, etc., etc., and just because it's personal doesn't mean it's important, and obviously I have a lot of feelings for The Hour that are tied up into this thought, but I have a paper. So, just, fuck you.
Also an incidental fuck you to everyone who says that to be a doctor you have to be able to not let your patients hang over you after work or something like that, because apparently there is no difference between not letting emotional ties get in the way of making decisions re: the patient's health and not caring about the patient at all. I would say "not caring about the patient beyond work" but just because it's work doesn't mean it's not personal, etc., etc., and just because it's personal doesn't mean it's important, and obviously I have a lot of feelings for The Hour that are tied up into this thought, but I have a paper. So, just, fuck you.