I remember at least two things from kindergarten. One was the wonderful feel of fingerpaints as they spread across the paper, inevitably making a mess, with the bright blues and reds and yellows turning into mud. The other was getting my blanket out of my cubbyhole, laying it on the floor next to my classmates, and then trying to take a nap as the teacher tiptoed around us. Oh, and there were milk and cookies afterwards.
There were milk and cookies afterwards.
Later, when we lived in the tropics, I remember my mother extolling the virtues of the afternoon siesta, though she seemed to need it more than the kids did. And much later, when I started being “on call” during medical training, sleep became a real issue for me.
My senior resident, Neil, encouraged our team, whenever possible, to have dinner in the hospital cafeteria and then hit the call room for whatever nap we could get before nighttime admissions came rolling in. The call room at San Francisco General then was kind of a bunkhouse, with pagers going off in the dark and bleary interns scurrying off as needed, so it was rarely restful. I learned that if I could get four hours of uninterrupted sleep in a night, I was semi-functional. And when sleep-deprived, not as nice a person as I wanted to be.
Some people have the gift of nap. I am not one of them. As an intern, I would lie awake dreading a call, trying not to conjure one up by thinking about it, then jumping in a startle when it happened. As years went by, It became a little easier but always a strain. I figured out ways to adjust my schedule the day after call so I could continue. It wasn’t until I finally retired from patient care that I could count on an uninterrupted sleep.
Except that now I find myself lying awake, ruminating over the problems of the world and not solving them. Breathe, I intone. Let it go. Don’t finish the sudoku now. Oops, have to pee. Why is no position comfortable any more? Coffee, once a friend, can only be drunk first things in the morning without repercussions.
And then, during the day, when things are quiet, sometimes I sneak back under the covers and blissfully nap. Sometimes I even have milk and cookies.
Khati, I love this beautifully written story and another peek into your childhood and your very dedicated medical career.
And there is your face in that sweet little kindergarten kid in the picture!
Thanks Dana! Yes indeed lil ol me back in the day. The buttons of the collar really say 1950’s don’t they?