Just got home from a work event. Clock says 11.06pm. I officially have no life.

Meanwhile the guilt I feel is wearing me down. I hate this feeling. I wish it was me. I wish I was the one who got pricked. I know I shouldn't beat myself up over it but how can I feel relieved that someone else got hurt. I can't especially not when that person is under me, under my responsibility.

That plus the workload that's rapidly driving me crazy. I have projects to see through. New tests to get up and running. Doctors and service ops to meet. Seminars to attend. Journals to read. And meanwhile doctors expect you to be knowledgeable and on top of your game when all your brain can think about is sleep or caffeine to suppress that former thought.

I don't eat anymore. No cravings, no hunger pangs. I don't feel like talking to anyone or about anything. Wilk thinks I have early onset depression. I believe him seeing as how he is a certified psychologist. I need Prozac.

Jeanne spoke her mind @ 10:29 PM