Last Monday, I found myself waking to the sound of my roommate opening the bathroom door. A glance at my phone revealed the time, ten minutes past six, leaving me less than an hour to get ready for the first day of my last medical-surgical posting. As I laid on the bed staring at the string of lights that hung over my bed, I despised Monday because it made me face the posting that I had dreaded for the three weeks I spent at home.

  Mondays tend to elicit groans of pain or exclamations of shock. They represent the start of a new week and whilst the sound of a fresh start might be invigorating, often we are caught off guard by the realities that Mondays bring. Realities like a class presentation that you failed to prepare for or starting out at a new place of work or even going back to the place of work brings you stress.

  I rolled out of bed and went through the motions of my morning routine, my hands getting heavier with each passing second. I was running late and going late on the first day, in my experience, never bodes well so I ran out of the hall in hopes of catching the first bus. Unfortunately, life, never going quite the way I always want it, happened and I watched the taillights of the bus fade into the distance. Sighing in partial relief and frustration, I joined the pool of blue that milled about the car park and sat on the sidewalk attempting to read a note that I had forgone the night before. Finally, as the sun hung firmly in the sky, the third bus arrived and I got a seat staring out the window looking at the trees and the factories that make the scenic route of the highway.

  As the sole of my sneakers hit the granite of the hospital road, a feeling bubbled up my throat. Not fear or anxiety, I have too many experiences with the hospital to not recognize those emotions, rather it was a feeling of tension, a pseudo stress that came with the thought.

Following the re-orientation program, I was assigned to the neonatal ward which caused the tension to rise up more as I cannot bear to see children sick. But, the tension eased, released from my mouth with a sigh at the sight of the face of the first baby, his face free of the tension, stress and anxiety of existing.

  I walked through the ward cooing and waving as big eyes blinked at me in curiosity. As I went about my duties, the tension never rose up and I felt at ease watching the sleeping babies.

  At the end of the shift, I felt rejuvenated, hopeful for the next day even with the rumor of a strike looming over my head. Monday was not yet over but I was thankful for it because it gave me a great start for the week.