I've heard that phrase so many times from people of all ages, backgrounds, and cultures. It's like everyone has their own version of "tough times don't last." Kinda like the ups and downs in the stock market.
That's what I was hoping for this weekend.
This week's been a bit rough with three shifts at the hospital, trekking over 10 kilometers a day, and grinding through my med school routine. And then, bam! Thursday hits, and I'm hit with an allergy crisis that knocks me off hospital duty. Since then, I've been feeling off, nowhere near 100%. Plus, Cuba decides to throw in some chilly weather (chilly for the Caribbean, at least), which is like my kryptonite.
Right now, my weapons are tissues, cold meds, and some hot concoctions.
This allergy crisis has really knocked me for six, and I've had to postpone some pretty cool plans for the weekend. You know how we say back home when things go awry, *"If you can't have bread, go for casabe"!
Casabe was this bread-like thing made by indigenous folks in Cuba way back before the Spanish showed up in the 15th century.
In my condition, all I wanted was for the weekend to roll around so I could rest up and chill out—a weekend of pure laziness.
But, like ALWAYS!, plans just don't seem to be my thing...
Managed to catch my team's game, though, and then things got wild...
Lately, I've been doing delivery gigs in the afternoons for a neighbor who sells stuff.
Cruising around town on my bike, dropping off packages—it's something I really enjoy. But this weekend, I just wasn't feeling it.
Despite that, my neighbor hits me up with three orders totaling 20 kilometers, which might as well have been 100 in my current state.
Still, I'm grateful for the gig 'cause I pedal and I get paid, so it's not too shabby.
After completing the first delivery and chugging half my water bottle, desperate to get home and crash, my dad calls. He's back from his work trip and asks if I need a hand.
Without a second thought, I accept. My body was screaming for a break; my heart rate was through the roof. It was time to call it quits. Since I was by the Malecón Habanero, I soaked in every second of the wait—sea breeze, city buzz, tourists milling about. Those little life pleasures.
Half an hour later, pops rolls up in his mystery machine, I stash my bike, and we keep on delivering.
If you're wondering why I call my dad's car the mystery machine, stay tuned. I'll spill the beans soon.
As luck would have it, we had to make a delivery by this cruise ship, and let me tell you, the view from its dining area is insane .
I didn't get on the cruise, but just seeing it from the street got me all hyped.
Fast forward to reality, night falls, and we're heading back home. We've spun around more than a spinning top.
All I wanted was my quiet weekend back.
I was about to hit the hay when my neighbor calls, telling me there are more deliveries lined up for tomorrow, bright and early.
There goes my rest plan, down the drain.
As I'm writing this now, I'm feeling way better than I did with my allergies, but I miss my relaxing weekend.
Sunday's probably gonna be more of the same—exercise and all. And you know what? I'm okay with it. Work's always welcome.
We've all had those weekends where nothing goes as planned, right? How do you deal with those curveballs? Got any tips for shaking off the disappointment when your plans get snatched away? How do you wrap up those days when you're just bone tired? Maybe a glass of wine and some snacks?
Drop me a line; I'd love to hear how you decompress after a tough day, whether it's work or study-related.
Thanks for sticking with me and taking the time to read this. Feel free to share whatever's on your mind; I'm all ears.
See you at next #weekend-engagement