A Tidings of Magpies

by Jane Kenyon From here I see a single red cloud impaled on the Town Hall weather vane. Now the horses are back in their stalls, and the dogs are nowhere in sight that made them run and buck in the brittle morning light. You laughed only once all day-- when the cat ate cucumbers in Chekhov's story...and now you smoke and pace the long hallway downstairs. The cook is roasting meat for the evening meal, and the smell rises to all the rooms. Red-faced skiers stamp past you on their way in; their hunger is Homeric. I know you are thinking of the accident-- of picking the slivered glass from his hair. Just now a truck loaded with hay stopped at the village store to get gas. I wish you would look at the hay-- the beautiful sane and solid bales of hay.

By Amanda Strand The wedding ring I took off myself, his wife wasn’t up to it. I brought the nurse into the room in case he jumped or anything. “Can we turn his head? He looks so uncomfortable.” She looked straight at me, patiently waiting for it to sink in. The snow fell. His truck in the barn, his boots by the door, flagpoles empty. It took a long time for the taxi to come. “Where to?” he said. “My father just died,” I said. As if it were a destination.

by Rafael Campo I pass you in a hurry, on my way to where another woman who I know is dying of a stroke that in the end is nothing worse than what is killing you. Same gurney, same bruised arms and mute IV— you wait for what might be a final test. It's something in the way you look at me that makes me realize you have your own mistakes you think you're paying for, your own ungrateful kids, your own unspeakable pain. Yet you look at me, still desperate for just another human being to look kindly back at you, to recognize in you the end is not far off, is not so unimaginable. Years ago I watched a patient of mine say goodbye to life. She was alone like you, alone like me, she was in agony. She looked at me, and I, afraid to be the last thing here on Earth she saw, twisted my head to look away. I almost do the same to you, afraid you might imagine me as later you lay dying, but I don't. Instead, I look at you remorselessly, ...

Fire by Wyatt Townley It's only the body It's only a hip joint It's just a bulging disc It's only weather It's only your heart It's a shoulder who needs it This happens all the time It's very common It's unusual For people your age For people your age You're in great shape Remarkable shape It's nothing you did The main thing is It's temporary It's only a doll In a house that's burning please note: photo art by Paul Politis. Title by The Mamas and the Papas.

I'll just go on up to the hospital and wait for you all there. You look like accidents waiting to happen. aaaahhhhhh, the absolute joy of children...

and it was all downhill from there.

Please accept the deep and heartfelt thanks from all those who work in all the Neurodramavilles everywhere. And, It's back... I've been waiting.

no couches or comets in sight... please note: art by Winslow Homer

Home after 14 hours of no lunch, no bathroom break, and might I say, no fun. Now that I'm in my favorite place with my favorite people I'm forced to recollect that my last patient, admitted straight from the OR, had suffered a subdural hematoma (please refer back to your notes from July 15th--"Hellboy and me") from LYING ON THE COUCH. Yes, I know that he was prone to bleeding due to the medications he was taking for blood clots in his legs, and it would have only taken a slight bump...but the couch?? Et tu Brutus?? I love, love, love to recline on my couch. It is my sanctuary. And I believe it loves me right damn back. I cannot believe that because of this inconvenient piece of information it is no longer a haven of safety for me, a "soft place to fall" as Uncle Phil likes to say (again and again and again--enough, you crazy old coot). Okay, I surrender. I'm going to go lay on the couch, put my feet up, and, yes, I will put on my helmet.

I try not to complain much about work on this blog, preferring to save it all for dinner hour and my stand -up routine with the family. Yesterday, though, was too much for a mere mortal to withstand. Quote of the day: "Tell them to hurry up so we can visit him. We just drove down from Dayton." Let me set the scene here. Mr. Patient, 72, was transferred to us from an Outside Hospital (OSH) for a subdural hematoma he had suffered after a fall. Mr. P. also has a cardiac history and was on a blood thinner at home which, while helpful for the heart, is obviously not so fabulous for a brain bleed. The family had been with Mr P. at the OSH and had seen him shortly after he was admitted to our ICU. The ICU team and 3 neurosurgeons were in the room, examining the patient, discussing whether they needed to take him to surgery right now to evacuate the blood and relieve pressure to his brain, and preparing him for impending surgery by placing an arterial line for blood pressure monitori...

That kind of a day, but without Marge to talk to. All Homer. All day.

12 Hrs at work and my dogs are barking. please note: art by tartx

Wasted away again in Neuroramaville

Again, I am begging you...wear the freakin' helmet!!