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Time is my enemy; time is my friend.

As everyone knows, time passes. Sometimes it's your enemy, and sometimes your friend. Lately I've been saying to myself, "Time is my enemy; time is my friend." I repeat over and over again with a singsong cadence, as in "She loves me; she loves me not."

Now that I'm doing a month on trauma service, I can't seem to get this out of my head. Everyone who knows me knows that I love my free time and I love my sleep -- these months spent in the hospital all the time and not sleeping really crimp my style. Even though there are good enough reasons to do this (I did sign up for it after all), I go through these months like a little kid running through a cold sprinkler, with his face all scrunched up and running like hell, hoping to come out on the other end quickly.

From the time I wake up in the morning until I leave the hospital, time is my friend. Time passes, after all. Every second that goes by is one less second until I get to go home and post on my blog. Of course, when I'm home and indulging in the time I have for myself, time continues to pass. But now, it's my enemy. Every second that goes by brings me that much closer to the time when I'll have to go back to the hospital. See? Time is fickle. Or it seems that way, when I'm post-call and blogging on only two hours of sleep. :)

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