There's Got To Be A Morning After

Friday night/Saturday morning were indeed memorable. The hospital morgue filled to capacity and the overflow was being sent to some kind of "E Corridor." Don't even want to know what the hell that is or where it is. Driving home Saturday evening after work I passed five police cars encircling some new drama at the No Tell Motel and at the only open gas station on the wrong side of the expressway where I stopped for my empty tank a group of girls were screaming, scuffling and getting into some serious fistacuffs.

Sunday was better in terms of admissions, but the work of repairing the damage done occupied everyone's day. Getting hold of the Ortho service, or portable XRAYs for that matter, was like receiving an audience with the Pope. CT scans multiplied to give visual reassurance that the pool of blood in Tommy's head wasn't any larger and that Grandma's ischemic stroke(from a blood clot)hadn't converted to a hemorrhagic one(the damaged, friable blood vessels in the injured part of the brain break down/tear apart/dissolve creating a bleed in the brain).

And, whatever bad juju created the havoc over the last 24 hours was now affecting all the visitors and setting everyone's teeth on edge. But it is done. I am off. Hubby is off. Would like to take him clothes shopping before his Christmas Gift cards expire, but the two of us are barely moving and loath to be far from the coffee pot today.

by John Pursley III

We walked around the lake, down through the runoff to take pictures of the damage—where, even after the rain stopped, water still ran over the dam & down into the gully, weaving among the rocks. My father took pictures of washed-out fences, each field left fallow, the pine trees uprooted, their black roots a rot of contorted tangles, blazon—just slightly—with whatever light jack-wedged its way beneath the gnarled brushwood of sycamore & spruce, the firs & whatnot. While birds rebuilt, we busied ourselves with dying—destruction’s formidable effects: the water bent back against itself, burbling up over the dam in green curtains of spray, rising through the lock like a blown gasket, or a kitchen imbued with smoke—all the bobbers & beer cans, those blue plastic bags, just gathering there—that small dog, washed around the trunk of a tree, stripped of all flesh, as if by scavenger birds—how beautifully the bones held the shape of his body, like a hull of a ship—the sun, bleached white.


  1. Sounds just awful. Big hugs. Hope you both get some much deserved rest. xoxo

  2. Yesterday was rough - 12 hours of gardening, daughter to the emergency room with severe abdominal pain (ultrasound tech nowhere to be found), and up until 1am installing new hardware on our front door - to find the deadbolt didn't line up. We slept on the living room couch, our own watchdogs.

    But your day sounds insane. Breathe deeply. Found you again back. Will do better too :)

  3. And I thought a bad day with students was exhausting! I admire the work you do, and as someone whose life was saved in an ER, I very much appreciate it.

  4. Who knows what starts these chains of events? I like to think of them as a runaway train...going downhill. Sooner or later, forward momentum will halt. Lucky for you, that was in a day off. Now stay away from the phone and the pleading of the people in time planning/staffing. Turn a deaf ear my dear and pour another cuppa joe.

  5. Sounds like a real doozy of a day. Hope it is all better.

  6. Some weekend. Breathe deep--and again. Those of us who cannot do what you do, are awed, humbled and so grateful that you do it.

  7. Love how you make us feel through these stories. WE have stopped complaining our backaches and lack of sleep. You have tipped the scale for all of us.

  8. Reading your posts are better than watching an episode of ER. Though the George Clooney years had some pretty good stuff, which was mostly Mr. Clooney himself.

    Have I said this before...It's a good thing that your do....even if, it deserves repeating.

  9. Thanks to everyone for your comments over the weekend. It's energizing to know that all is not drama and crisis all the time. Hubby and I did get our butts off the couch to enjoy the sunshine. Even took HoneyHaired to the nearest Target for some shorts shopping. Everything's better after a little retail therapy.

  10. Your night makes my last two days of vomiting (sorry no pretty words for that!)sound like a walk in the park. I am better now....and it sounds as though you are too. I have heard that what doesn't kill us make us stronger, what do you think?


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