Here a Bleed, There a Bleed, Everywhere a Bleed, Bleed

It's been a rough summer in the land of Neurodramaville. I personally think the frequent weather changes and variations in barometric pressure add to the numbers of head bleeds that we get. Crack cocaine is another. Traumas have been down, but no less heartbreaking. A young man planning on proposing to his girlfriend this week. He's now dead and she's has significant head trauma after a wrong left turn by another driver. Another 16 yr old with a gun shot wound to the head after a lost game of Russian Roulette. And room after room of crying spouses and children after hearing that this head injury, fall, stroke, infection is non-survivable. Thank God for hospice.

There's lots of short staffing, as there is in every hospital.

Fortunately most shifts are full of people who pitch in and the work gets piece-mealed together. Although, unlike some other very cool teams we are not allowed to wear pink cami pants or carry assault weapons. Very non-visionary, I know.

I haven't been writing or commenting much these past weeks. Quite honestly, I've been exhausted and tapped out. Perhaps my muse has skipped town; more likely, is hanging with some ne'er-do-wells. Maybe she's just trying to keep her own head above water.


  1. Although I haven't been dealing with the same issues that you have, I, too, feel a lack of energy, a blah-ness. Let's blame it on the dog days of summer and hope it passes soon.

  2. Sorry to hear that real life and death have got you by the short hairs. I hope that you will be able to find some respite of your own sometime soon.

    I also hold all those suffering loved ones in my thoughts and wish them a balm of surrender for their wounded hearts.

    I'll be checkin' up on you.

  3. I hear you. It takes a toll.

  4. Thank you for the work you do- it is hard but desperately important.

  5. Thank you so much for the work you do. It is one of the most confronting, raw professions there is.
    I dont know what we would do in this world without people like you and your co-workers.

  6. Thanks for all you do. You're truly an everyday hero. <3

  7. Well, be of good cheer 'cos your work and words are deeply valued.

    Please swing by my fledgling blog which you inspired me to create.

    Have always had a thing for birds, and smile especially broadly now when I see a magpie - and embrace my grace.

  8. Yes, difficult for many. We are treating 3 Met cases with Gamma Knife this morning. 38 (or any age) is too young for brain mets!

  9. Perhaps your muse is hanging out with my muse, watching You Tubes or taking care of other people.

  10. I believe that your muse is alive and well, keeping you alert. She is sucking up the experiences....waiting for the time she can let loose with a new round of insightful, interesting short passages....Smiles to you!

  11. I've missed you DBSO. But I understand how weariness can set in. I'm wallowing in a bit of a funk myself.

    But I love this kind of post from you. Not that I'm morbidly lurking for trauma, but I like hearing your voice and your experiences.

    I'm thinking there's some big cosmic shift coming and we're all going to be rewarded with less stressful, more blissful lives. Ready or not.

  12. Sometimes all we can do is put one foot in front of the other and move slowly forward through these moments. Encouraging thoughts are being sent from me to you.

  13. I'm with you too on this....just can't seem to get the words together - out of my head - out of my fingers. Something else - something not good - has taken the place of those words.

    Maybe tomorrow - or the next day - or perhaps the one after that.

    (btw - survived a head bleed myself. Combo of smoking and the pill when I was in my 20's. Not nice.)

  14. Many years ago my mother suffered a Subarachnoid Hemorrhage. It was touch and go for at least a month (with a long slow recovery after that). The expertise and humor of the staff were literally lifesaving; for my mother and for our family. People like you made it bearable. Thank you for your work and for your lovely blog. Take good care of yourself, whatever that means for you. All things in their right time.

  15. Very intense post, reminding me again how very grateful I am to Hospice for everything it did during my mother's final months in 2000.

    I'm thinking of those patients and family members under your care. And I'm thinking of you taking care of you.

    My muse is traveling this summer. If the bitch would just send an occasional postcard.....

  16. When I can't suck it all up and write, I quote that greatest of all TV Shows, Seinfeld, and call it "intense malaise." Don't stress it. We can wait.

  17. I don't know how you stand all that grief, I could not do it. Sending hugs and kisses.

  18. What a post! Not sure what to say. I could never work with tragedy as you do. I am not strong enough.

    The picture of the children and water is perfect.

  19. So full-time job and school exams = -------------------------------------------------

    Work can be like a tick....sucking the life right out of you...when you care....

    Hang in there.... {} internet hug

  20. Perhaps you muse needs some water. Perhaps your muse needs to fill the well back up. Do take care, DBSO. Whatever it takes, may you find peace and rest and refreshment.

  21. I'm having a wee bout of brain surgery on Thursday & for some reason decided to drop in! I think I was drawn to the brains in the pictures. (I'm brain obsessed currently. :P)
    Hope your feeling better...
    It'll pass.


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