It is that time of year when I get to the office before the sunrise. When it happens its yellow beams illuminates the office with its brilliance and makes me wonder and appreciate that the earth still spins and I am here to experience such. My work week looks like any other: full up with med-checks and new patients; scripts to renew and fires to put out. There is nothing particularly exciting about this, nor is it mundane. Prior to work I did the usual morning ablutions which included walking the dog and tending to her needs. Someone was still asleep; I won’t see him today as he will work and come home late – probably after I retire for the day. I still feel pain to disallow much if any gym activity so when work ends today at five I will probably go directly home where Harper will want more of the same. I will do some charting until it tires me. This is my Monday: wash, rinse, and repeat.

Paradoxically there is also a feeling there is no need to go on. This is not a sign of depression nor thoughts towards suicide. Most folks have in their 50s an element of disenchantment to life – enough that if they should suddenly drop they don’t feel deprived by the departure. There is a careful acceptance of the possibility of death; it is OK if it should happen. The Tilt-o-whirl was great fun but I’ve had enough. A meaningful life paradoxically means you don’t mind losing it when it happens.

In a few minutes work begins; it is hoped by day’s end I will have a quiet satisfaction of having done a good day’s work and feel good for my efforts towards making others feel better. The sun is up now and my left side of my face feels its apricity. It is a lovely experience making me grateful for who I am and what I do and I have lived to see another mundane Monday.