another week from hell

for b. we're aiming for another 140 hour work week - cool! (sarcasm.) well, maybe closer to 125 to 130 hours - slacker. I've really gotten used to self-inflicted PIO shots. but whenever I'm forced to give them myself (daily) there is guaranteed leakage and blood. when the phone rings at 7:30 pm, I audibly sigh because I know it's b calling to say he'll be, ummm late... again. time to load up the syringe, contort my body, and shoot myself in the ass. man, that's smart!

what's incredibly annoying (and quite frankly insulting) about b's schedule (aside from solo PIO) is that his attendings have somehow made this sucky situation "about me." piss off frank. b was pulled aside recently because he "looked a little down." b opened up and said that his wife (me. newly pregnant. not feeling so well these days) was far from thrilled with the work schedule. it was suggested that I "not rely on others (b) for my happiness." I should engage in some sort of hobby. for example this particular person loves karate and flying small aircraft. both fantastic options for someone in their first trimester! little does this person know but b could not have married a more independent person. I have my fair share of hobbies thank you. take responsibility yale new haven medical center! this has EVERYTHING to do with YOU torturing a poor fellow with ridiculous demands and inhumane hours. let the boy eat something. let the boy pee for crying out loud! give the boy time to take care of himself so he can better take care of others. this has nothing to do with me and my assorted knitting projects and partially read books. b never has or never will be "responsible" for my happiness. that is an absurd notion. what's the crime in wanting to spend a little quality time with someone... someone you're married to? our last dinner out in a restaurant was christmas day. or does a take-out burrito count as fine dining?

it doesn't make me happy living all alone in a shit neighborhood that borders the slums and where most of your neighbors don't know a speck of english. "good mornings" are greeted with blank stares. it's hard to call this place "home." how do you say "home" in chinese? no amount of karate lessons, embroidery classes or paper making can change how I feel. this dump is temporary so maybe on some level I refuse to embrace it because soon we'll have to say goodbye. in 1 year and 3 months, rest assured, little one and I will be packing up a twin engine plane (thanks to my newfound distraction) and getting the hell out of here. fast! and we're taking b with us.