poem

“Bible to Bedside”

And there I was. At morning rounds.
The day began as any other.
Signout given to me on a crisp and clean sheet of paper.
With names of my patients neatly printed on it.
Soon to be folded, crumpled, written on, and stuffed in my pocket.
I glance at the ‘To Do’ list.
A busy service already.
And to start the day,
1 admission in the Emergency Dept waiting, 1 woman on labor deck
And 3 discharges that have to happen before noon.
Our team divides and conquers.

Randomness and Compassion

What the poets call “kismet” and the romantics “fate,” the philosophers call “contingency” and the mathematicians “randomness.” (DJB)

Eat right, drink right, die anyway. (Anonymous)

Sleep

Sleep, sleep, I call to thee in the darkness of the night
Desperate for you to overtake me with slumber
I close my weary eyes and hold them tight
For you to protect me from rain and thunder
Exhausted I call to thee, knowing that I must awake at dawn
Hoping that when I do awake, this day’s harsh realities are gone.

In your presence, heaven’s treasures may come
And boundless fantasies may soar
May my fears and pains be gone
And my anxieties washed ashore
May the new day bring a better day
And yesterday’s struggles take away.

Alzheimer’s Disease

Tout casse. Tout passe.
(Everything breaks. Everything passes away.)
— French Proverb

Art helps us to live our lives.
— American Poet Wallace Stevens