That's Your Badge

This is my front door.
That's your badge.
They say twelve hours. Three days a week.
I get there at seven. The shift starts at seven thirty.
That half hour is mine. So the shift does not start on top of me.
Then thirty minutes on how the unit feels.
Three doctors ask why the labs are not collected.
Night shift collects the labs.
I start passing meds.
Room three needs changing. Room five first. Transport will not wait.
I start the meds again. Two hours late.
Now they are overdue. That part is mine.
Noon. Everyone goes to lunch.
Mine is at six.
Therapy writes. Pharmacy writes. The pill is not in the drawer.
Twenty five thousand steps. Six patients turned every two hours.
Thirteen and a half hours.
I cannot remember my own name.
Why don't you talk to me?