Category Archives: rural doctor

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the pale reflections of our bitter selves

they are neglected, you know, by most
the worse self, the worst self, the dark
the impulse to yank the moon from the sky
when she slides down the stair, to see who’s there

there are few poems written to the dark
impulses, the demons, the underside of our hopes
and dreams, the nastiness, the grief, the anger
we are kept in the dungeons below the basement

below the belt we band together huddle
in a pile of claws and unfeathered wings and teeth
wishing for a blanket, to be held, rocked
loved, wishing for the mothers who left us

the fathers who denied us, pushed us away
so that we knew and know what to hide
what to deny, what part of ourselves to kill
we try and try but few do

and then they are mourned, people say
they don’t understand but ask the demons below
and oh, they do, they do! maybe the next plane
will be kinder and love the demons

the bitter self, the dark self,
that longs so badly to be loved
that longs forever to be loved
that is not loved this round

this round

written 11/24/2023

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Goals

Are they called goals in cornhole?

Sol Duc has a goal.

Warm belly fur. I am not sure she is going to like going home. When we first drove up the Olympic Penisula, my daughter was two. It was three pm on New Year’s Eve, getting dark, and we were on 101 with the very tall trees blocking most of the light. “Where sun, mom? Me no can see sun.” Sol Duc will probably ask the same thing: Where did the sun go?

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: goal.

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Tea bear

My friend C. is a bear.

People don’t know she is a bear. She carries a bear, a teddy bear. It is named S Bear, after her husband. He died of cancer a while ago. So she carries a bear named after him. The first time I met the bear, I asked if it needed a teacup too. Because people make clothes for it and I don’t know how far it all goes. No, the teddy bear did not need a teacup.

My friend C. is a bear. She writes horror stories under the name lostcauser. The writer is from Tennessee and so is C. The stories are horrid. Lostcauser is an anagram. Rearrange the letters and you get closet ursa. Closet bear. Hidden bear.

She is not my only friend who is a bear. She is aware of her bearness, her ferocity, the beast inside. Bears like honey and blueberries, too, they aren’t just monsters. My other friend dreams of a one room shack in the woods. His dead brother is at the door shouting for help. His brother is being attacked by a bear. A huge terrifying bear.

“Did you invite it in?” I ask.

“It’s a BEAR.” says my friend.

“It’s a Dream Bear.” I say, “I would ask what it wants.”

“You don’t understand bears,” says my friend.

“I understand a lot about dreams. Some think that everyone you see in a dream is a part of yourself. It can be a part that you don’t accept.”

“Bears attack. You can’t invite them in.”

“I would ask the bear in. I would ask the bear if it would like some tea.”

I tell another friend about one of my dreams. There are monsters screaming. I go towards them.

“TOWARDS them?” says my friend. “Why would you go TOWARDS them?”

I have to think about it. “Well, they are screaming. They might be hurt. They might need medical care. I have to go help them.”

My friend shakes his head. “Only you,” he says, “would go towards the screaming.”

One time in my neighborhood, I hear horrible screaming. I get up. It is 1 am. I go out and try to find the screamer. I don’t find anyone. A few days later, I read that someone nearly severed their arm somehow, in my neighborhood. A policeman saves his life with a tourniquet. It was three blocks from my house, at the grade school. The grade school is where I went. I think the person was knifed, but I don’t know. My neighborhood does not get a lot of that sort of thing, at least, not a lot of screaming that wakes me up.

I wonder about my friend that is attacked by a dream bear. A bear that is much bigger than his dream self and his dream brother self. There must be a lot of darkness in that bear. It is angry about being ignored.

My friend C. is a bear. She knows she is a bear. Reading her stories, I do not think she likes being a bear.

I don’t mind if she is a bear. I wonder if we will have tea again some day.

____________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: fan. Why? Maybe I am a fan of bears. Or maybe fans make me think of hats and gloves and tea parties. And bears.

This is based on speculation and some true events.

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Wild

I keep wondering at the stubborn part of me that will not let go.
 That wants to reconcile with all, no matter what they’ve done.
 I go inside, deep and deeper, in the depths all is slow.
 That part is the holy part that longs for the One.
 I have been told to let go of things, forget, no more longing.
 But the longing is a sacred place, a longing for the Beloved.
 I think that excising it would be a horrid evil wronging.
 Handle gently, with care, with love, and gently gloved.
 I meet someone who says, “You are very in touch with your inner child.”
 I know it’s not a compliment, I smile and pay little mind.
 My Child is my connection to the Beloved, fierce and mild.
 Jealous judging rolls right off, people can be unkind.
 I won’t excise the holy core, the Beloved inner child.
 I feel the Beloved’s laughing play and joy, heart running wild.

_________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: realize.

https://www.playingforchange.com/videos/words-of-wonder-get-up-stand-up-song-around-the-world

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There must be

There must be a bell here somewhere. I am sure of it! This is Cinque Terre, taken when my daughter and I were hiking last September. It was a beautiful and fabulous day! We hiked the trail for three towns and that was enough. I thought my legs might fall off.

And the water! Gorgeous.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bell.

Keb’ Mo’, sing it and ring it!

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All of my patients are smart 3

Human behavior doesn’t surprise me, really. Sometimes it disappoints, depresses, demeans, dispirits and demoralizes. And it’s not the patients. It is the corporate workplace and how it abuses people. And circles the wagons against a threat. Including against employees that it views as threats.

I think all of my patients are smart. “You got this,” I say. I explain what carbohydrates are and that they are in everything, practically, except meat and oil. And some meats have carbohydrates too: shrimp, for example. But my patients can figure this out! My patients rise to the occasion! I am not saying that they do smart things all the time. No one does, including me. Even the smartest ones can do things that are not a good idea or are a really bad idea. Growing up in an addiction household, I think I escaped addiction mostly because I had decided that no adults could be trusted by the time I was three. I thought they loved me but I couldn’t trust them not to give me to someone else. Ironic, that the distrust saved me from taking the same path. My sister took it and is gone. My patients are smart and all I have to do is share my education and experience! They take the ball and run with it! Not all. Sometimes it’s too late and everyone dies eventually.

Corporations, on the other hand, are infuriatingly stupid.

The photograph is me in 2015, sailing my father’s boat with my daughter, in Port Townsend Bay.

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Something

Something is happening all around me
Something unpleasant is creeping around
I trust that feeling, that core that is free
I go quiet and listen, I will stand my ground
I am told no problem, this is routine
Nothing to worry about, averting their eyes
Lay down and be walked on, take it for the team
Blind-sided, I walk through a jungle of lies.
I walk very slowly then take to the trees.
I swing on a vine past the river of tears.
Wave to the gators with teeth to eat me,
Routine bad treatment not surprising nor feared.
In the treetops I sing to the stars quite alone
I am happy and making my quiet way home.

Suddenly I am thinking about home. Travel does that sometimes.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: travel.

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Fit, function and frustration

The clinic that I have been in now since a week or two in July is an older clinic. It does not have wall mounted computers in each room and in fact, there is no desk at all in the exam rooms. As the temp, the other two doctors have priority over me in picking their rooms. I do not like the exam table in one room. It isn’t a regular exam table. It turns out to be a table for a DO to do adjustments. I am an MD, not a DO. The table might get switched out but it has not been yet.

Meanwhile the desk. We have laptops that plug into the desktop in the offices that we each share with a medical assistant. The desktops have a standard keyboard. The laptops are small, and my laptop that I am typing on now is in between the two. At first my fingers had trouble switching between three different keyboard sizes. Now it is pretty automatic.

So, no desk in the exam room. I do most of my note in the room and don’t dictate. I type reasonably fast. But I hate a laptop on my lap and anyhow, we are all sitting too much, so I stole one of the two Mayo trays from the procedure room. Mayo trays have adjustable height, are stainless steel so they can be cleaned after surgery, and they are a pretty good desk for a laptop. I choose to stand while typing in room one.

Next it turns out to be inconvenient to drag the Mayo tray back and forth from room one to room two. I am leaving it in room one. Room two has a standard exam table, so I pull out the “pull out leg rest” (yes, I looked up the name), push the step in and then I can sit on my stool and use the “pull out leg rest” as a desk.

The medical assistants have adjusted, mostly. The patients blink at first, but they seem fine with it. Sometimes I am attempting to find something and also attempting not to curse this particular electronic medical record. The other day I needed an ankle-brachial index test. Ok, not under ABI. Two were under ankle-brachial index. I chose the one that was not in our clinic, since we don’t do them. I got a message back that that was wrong. I chased the other doctor down. She called a third provider who remembered. The one I need is under “us ankle-brachial index”. Really? Hopefully I will remember that annoying local electronic medical record filing quirk, but I may not. If you are wondering what it is, it is a test for arterial disease in the legs, comparing blood pressure in arteries in the legs with the arms. The “us” stands for ultrasound.

The photograph is Elwha supervising on my desk at home.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: desk.