reach inside and...

think, think, think...
a patient told me last week:
"I live inside my head, and only when my body is hurt do I even know it's there..."
It might help to know he has a schizoaffective disorder.
beta-blockers, oh beta-blockers, where are you when I need you?
This is something serious for a girl like me who is often overly-conservative when it comes to medication for anxiety, but there is a point when the pressure amounts to be too much.
why do I want to be a doctor? If I can't even get through this damn test without groping for a pill to help me up, how can I ever stand on my own feet as a physician?
Maybe that's why so many physicians become addicted to their own prescriptions. ouch. scratch that from the Rx pad.
at least beta-blockers are non-addictive.
I've made it this far for this long, why ruin a good thing? It's just that sometimes you think even your own heart is saying you're not good enough.
and I keep standing. keep waking up. keep walking, talking, breathing, beating, loving. all for something.

k

good song: "letting the cables sleep" by bush