conversations in a hospital #5

pt: i feel like pavlov's dog
me: how do you mean? (as i spoon feed him teaspoons of water)
pt: ring the bell, get some water, ring the bell, get some water

conversations in a hospital #4

every time i have a shift at our downtown cancer hospital, my client ends up being put on a dnr order and palliatiave care during my time with them...i was starting to wonder if maybe this wasn't the right profession for me, when i'm like the long, bony hand of death...but then i remembered that it's a cancer hospital, so it's probably more coincidence.
~
- is there a chance to enjoy the time i have left? asked mr. c, slowly, taking deep breaths between each word as the nurse put a finger over the trach hole in his neck.
- how would you want to do that? she asked.
- my daughter to visit, my wife to visit more, my family is going deeper in the hole, in debt.
- what would make you happy?
- to stop putting my family through this devastation. i want to enjoy as much as possible.

my triumphant return to shotokan

oh dear dear karate-do, my how i have missed you.
the soreness you leave in those muscles i forgot existed.
the bruises you imprint on my shins and forearms.
the lactic acid you help build up in my quads after mere minutes of horse stance.
the havoc wreaked on my bare feet, callouses forming under my big toes, bunions bulging.
my brain works hard to pluck the finely choreographed kata sequences from its long term memory storage....but my limbs remember the moves, like an ingrained dance routine.
my expanding waist line and flabby belly are thanking your triumphant return to my body's regimen.
domo arigato.
yame.

my one true friend is a drug addict

i get the 5am wake up call...again.
"who is this?" i grumble in my sleepy stupor...it's been a while since i've gotten this call.
"it's me" * sniff *
i am the one she calls from strangers' beds, in her coke-induced fervor.
i don't see her very often anymore.
recently out of rehab, she confined herself to work and the gym...anything to keep her busy.
but just as she has never judged me, i don't judge her.
"are you ok?"
i always ask. although i know she is as resilient as they come.
"i'm ashamed" * sniff *
"dude, i'm sorry" * sniff *
"i'm just so fucking bored" * sniff *
the string of apologies she always gives me.
i know she's sorry. i know she means it.
"don't be sorry. just get home safe."
"why can't i stop doing this?"
i wish i could answer her. instead i silently cry.
T is the best friend anyone could wish for. i love her to death.
aside from J, she knows me better than anyone else.
i don't have many friends. she's my best.
my one true friend--a drug addict.
and i can't do anything to save her.

the manana procrastinators

To Do:

1. post here daily...scratch that.

To Do (modified):

1. finish this post
2. finish reading this article
3. make another list because it makes me feel better

procrastinators: leaders of tomorrow