Blimey! I look haggard, pretty bruised & battered. I use to think the bags under my eyes would simply recede with a decent rest, a long sleep, but that possibility has long since faded.
Perhaps it's the inevitable destiny of the nurse, you rarely meet any fresh faced health care providers beyond thirty years of age.
Maybe once I could have recovered; a regime of early nights combined with numerous skin treatments, creams and toners, but no longer. I use Bulldog face wash and moisturiser; hound dog would perhaps be more appropriate?
The thick rims of my glasses provide an element of camouflage but when I chose to go goggles free or remove them and stand in front of a mirror I see an old man, beyond that I see my Father.
Whilst I lounge and slouch I don't lie-in, I rest but I don't rest. I wake-up and I get-up; I can't scrunch up my eyes, roll over and drop off like so many others. I have often blamed this on my apparent bags and miss-stuffed cushion appearance, but perhaps it's just the way I am. A mixture of genetics, old age and life-fatigue?
After our break in Cornwall we return to Stone on Sunday, and I'm straight back into work on Monday morning. Day shift Monday, night on Tuesday and then off until the week-end when I'm in on two days shifts. Could do with shifting that Monday, but I think that is hugely unlikely so I'll just have to suck it up.
No comments:
Post a Comment