Deep Vein Thrombosis

Our clinic had a band back before 2009. Me and 4 of the nurses. We were into heavy metal. This was when I was working for Port Townsend Family Physicians. The county let me go and PTFP changed their name. Could not have been because we wore our band regalia to work, right? After all, it was Halloween.

Maybe they were afraid that the songs would catch on.

Little blue pill

Don’t code in the waiting room

Evidence based BM

Probiotics make you psychotic

Better that way

Alcohol is better than benzos

Mr. Sable is Unable

Buprenorphine: better n morphine

EMR means Eat My Rear

The 18 Patient Blues

Idaho Gigolo

I played flute and saw. J played fiddle and air siren. The others, well, you should ask them. I think all the tapes got burned by the hospital. Too bad, so sad.

I can’t credit the photographer. I don’t know who took it.

patience

The Ragtag Daily Prompt today is patience. We still have some fog. We hope for clear sailing. We hope the fog bank will shrink. Right now we can see what is under it and avoid it. Patience, patience. Mask and immunize, please, please, push back the fog.

Mother/child art

The photograph is me and my younger sister on our mother’s lap.

I have a collection of mother/child art. I think it’s because I was born in a tuberculosis sanatorium, because my mother coughed blood at eight months pregnant, and I had to be passed around while she got well. I went back to her at nine months. I acted pretty independent at that point and was not very trusting of adults.

I am taking photographs of the mother/child art for this part of my blog.

I can’t attribute this photograph. I don’t know who took it. Both of my parents and my sister are dead, so I cannot ask.

It might have been my grandfather, but I don’t know.

Quota

Quota

honestly
I feelΒ despair
when I try
to think about the newΒ schedule

Twenty four slots
Of 20 minutes
See three people
For 40 minutes
Twenty on the schedule

UnansweredΒ questions
Wake me on Sunday morning
If I am called to a labor patient
Must I make up that clinicΒ face time?
What ofΒ holidays?
The clinic is closed.
Night callΒ is nowhere addressed
Will they hire more and more
Who don’t take call
Until I am the last woman standing
Red rimmed eyes staring
Numb with fatigue

What of my nearly deaf patient
WhoΒ reads lips
May we take forty minutes?
All the fairly deaf elderly?
New parents, anxious
Questions pour out like
Coins from a jackpot win
What of the tearfulΒ brokenhearted
And anxious?
I shrink at the thought
Of crushing their hearts
Into twenty minutes

And what if I’mΒ sick?
(sick leave & vacation all one)
It’s not aΒ holidayΒ if I’m on call
No make-up day off
If I cancelΒ clinic
For illness
Do I make up those days
A quota of patient face days

I am in theΒ factory
TheΒ mines
People are the shirts I must sew
TheΒ tons of coalΒ I must load
I mustΒ meet a quota

Doctors die younger
Our life is measured out
InΒ patients
I won’t let theΒ quota
KillΒ my love