.justsomemorewords

I am so tired of death

I'm already a little crazy

I'm going to turn into one of those nutty cat women with wild hair and
old moth-eaten 70's sweaters that bake really good cookies except no one
would ever know because the paint on the house is peeling and all the
neighborhood children thinks she rides a broom -

no balance

either i feel hysterical and claustrophobic and my hands start shaking
when i see that ANOTHER one just died

or i feel cold and bored and when i tell you how many are dead i smile

its just a bad string of weeks - the fact is i fiercely love pediatrics
and would be acutely miserable and restless anywhere else - its just
hard to find balance

sometimes i feel like i'm in a horror movie

other times, most of the time, i have to pinch myself and tell myself -
look around you. this is your dream. you are in the middle of tchad
and bats are swooping around you and patients are sleeping in the dirt
and your popping IVs into hands and feet and heads, and this is amazing
and wonderful and did i mention you live in the middle of tchad - its
surreal

i am just not going to lie. its hard to be here. its terrible to be
here. its easy to be here. its wonderful to be here. its real raw
horrible beautiful juicy shrunken legitimate intimate life and death.

I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me. feel sorry for the kids that
are dying.

despite everything and the hardships and the bad days i love it here so
much and i am so happy to be living and practicing the dreams and ideals
that are most important to me, because this matters to me, living this
life matters to me, and i am at peace with myself because although i
don't believe in many things, that which i do believe in i have staked
my life on - and because of that i am free.