Tuesday, September 30, 2003
On a nicer note, I have been scribbling still. And performing - my prize tally for the Tues poetry nites at a nearby pub standing so far at $10 and a bottle of red (which will go nicely in my cooking). This one is a draft still, a patchwork of thoughts about going home:
Homecoming (notes)
Aotearoa
land of clouds and shadows
sun burst and sea stars
the pull of earth
its air freedom
Weekend smell
sliding clotheslines
roar of distant lawnmowers
sand wedging in toe cracks
introspection on the verge of rockpools
feet on sharp oysters
rain on asphalt
corrugated iron
glossy leaves stroking wet glass
friendship ringed round board games
pizza and fizz in glasses
long drives through night
to beaches made secret by moonlight
sinking onto black sand
lost by choice
scratching our names in the sand
swings dancing in darkness
city lights reflected
dark road like polished greenstone
cheerful clink of cups
playing student in a fleece
in the warm groan
of my old Toyota
and now I can come home
21.8.03, 4.11.03 Annandale
Piokiwi 1:40 am
Whew, it's been over a month since I last posted!! Not that there's been many a night shift where I've though about opening up the blogger page.... but then a new patient has arrived, or a nurse has barged in and demanded immediate attention, or somesuch. Such is the ICU.
The PICU tonight was a sad place when I left. Another two year old (they are always 2 or 3) had been found face down in a pool, and resuscitated so there was a heartbeat, but no evidence of brain function. The family realised quickly what that meant. They were sobbing away their hope beside the bed as his little life ebbed away. One of the grandparents asked my boss how he could bear to do his job and see such things, day after day.
It's a common enough conversation in the ICU. Strangely enough, though I have indeed lost my nerve a few times - usually when withdrawal of care or organ donation needs to be mentioned - I do enjoy my time in the ICU. Apart from the academic challenge - working out what is going on and what the best course of action is - it is a rare opportunity to form a direct bond with the family - often the relatives are who you can help the most. I also marvel at the ICU consultants' ability to keep fighting for patient's lives, long after the rest of us have lost reasonable hope. When the odds are stacked thousands to one against, when all medical reasoning says you should stop, the ICU consultant is still trying to see that one last chance. And it seems to me that that is what every patient- and their family - needs - someone who will fight to the last.
Ben
Tiny yellow body
all belly
garlanded by rattle-horses
still at last.
A lock of fair hair
in a book,
a blue box of sparkles
smudged with tears.
Machines grouped silently
behemoths now still
waiting for a new call
to arms.
Piokiwi 1:36 am
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