i was on call on valentine’s day this year. apparently the only reason i was put on call that day was that i have no significant other. i guess it was fair.
i ended up assisting a haemorrhoidectomy and a particularly disgusting incision and drainage, ending the night getting grilled by an anaesthesiology medical officer while the plastic team cleaned a woman’s face up. i also got to sleep for an obscene amount of time, waking up with a jolt after snoozing for 5 hours, checking my phone frantically to see if i had missed any calls from the periphery wards, rubbing my eyes in disbelief when i realised that i didn’t.
so yeah, i had a great valentine’s day.
but you know how these things go. once the hormones kicked in for their monthly rampage i felt like crap again. and i recalled the music and the smells and failures of things past. but a thought entered my mind: i’m not lonely.
i can go out and have ice cream or a nice girly drink or brunch with people who reciprocate my feelings, my friendship. i can call my parents. i can even hop on a train home anytime i want.
i’m not lonely. what i am, however, is someone who has a life big enough to be shared, but who doesn’t have someone who would like to permanently share that life with me. to be a tenant. a partner. to split the rent.
it was chap goh meh aka the chinese valentine’s day yesterday. i spent it running a clinic that went on waaaaaaay past lunchtime, finally had a bite to eat at the expense of one of my medical officers, then had ice cream for dinner with some colleagues. i came home, had a small glass of spiked orange juice and went to bed after watching will gardner and alicia florrick continue their little dance.
no, i’m not lonely. it’s just the space around me can feel a little too big sometimes.