The buzz of the carlight notification system snaps me out of my stupor.

I sense movement from the hall. Maybe one of the residents needs something.

But as I raise my head, I see nothing but an empty, dimly lit hallway.

I notice the carlight above door 128 is on, wiping a bit of cold drool from my cheek.

I turn toward the computer at the nurses station, opening up the communication system,

I navigate to the right button, then speak into the microphone.

Yes, can I help you? There's no answer.

Sometimes the residents call for help getting up to use the bathroom.

Sometimes they call because they're dying.

There's a range of other reasons, but you never really know what to expect in a nursing home.

Or a skilled nursing facility, as we like to call it.

I have to assume the worst when I get a call light in the middle of the night, no matter what.

So I stand up from my chair, grab my stethoscope, and flip it over my head to hang around my neck.

I head out of the nurse's station, feeling like a walking zombie.

Ever since going on the night shift at the sunny palm skilled nursing facility,

I've had trouble sleeping. I've figured that my body would adjust eventually,

but it's now been over three weeks. I probably haven't managed more than three or four hours of sleep

each night for three weeks. When I get to work, it's dark, and when I leave, the sun is up.

So when I get home, my body can't seem to take the hint that it's time to go to sleep,

even with the blackout curtains. Even though I take melatonin, even though I exercise five days a week,

nothing seems to help. I've tried sleeping pills prescribed by a doctor, but those just seem to make me

groggy. When I take them, I seem to only have sleep through the night, which usually means I wake up even

...