Tag Archives: inspiration

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Wait

I came close but no cigar
I want a mind that I can love
hand holding mine in the car
I send a quiet prayer above
Love of nature, kind to friends
not afraid of their own dark
Lust to learn until their end
willing to risk to build an ark
Curious but not controlling
Not addicted to booze or drugs
Intense at times and others strolling
Opinions, laughter and lots of hugs
My heart open yet I don’t faint
I think I am waiting for a saint

_____________________________

I wrote the poem yesterday, but I have used up my memory in wordpress and now I need to go through and delete things. Any advice, Martha? I know you did it. It seems that I have to delete the post and the photograph, or is that not true? Advice welcomed.

I search my photographs for gloves and it comes up with two: foxgloves! Well, strictly speaking, that is a form of glove, right?

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: glove.

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Talk

Today I will interview people in clinic, but yesterday I hiked alone. Well, no, not really alone. I spot movement and freeze. A silent interview of this rabbit, with the help of my zoom camera. There was a very young bunny further on, about 6 inches long, who hid behind a bush a year from me. I did not want to scare her, so did not get a photograph.

Lizards and crows, too. Chipmunks and a squirrel who was noisy until she realizes that I have spotted her in the small tree, barely taller than me.

I climbed the Serpent’s Trail which is an old road. It goes up and up but is never terribly steep. At the top, I can see the haze: smoke from forest fires in the Pacific Northwest and Canada is coming down. When I got home I closed up the house to keep the air cleaner. It is smokey today with lots of small particulates, not good. We will see more asthma, allergies, eye problems, emphysema and the smoke makes people headachey and irritable. I hope it doesn’t sit in the Grand Valley for a long time.

Meanwhile, the bunnies and the crows and the lizards and the squirrels, can’t go inside, can they?

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: interview.

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wait

I am waiting for approval or refusal from an official body regarding a job. The job was supposed to start on April 15, but the official body did not meet until April 17. (I am picturing a group of body parts getting together, arm, arm, leg, leg, head. Where is the pelvis? Probably out fooling around.) They initially said they would let me know by April 19 and then changed it to by May 1. So, any time between yesterday and May 1. This makes planning a bit difficult.

And weight. I drop ten pounds with pneumonia. I did not gain it back for a year. Then I went past my “normal”, about ten pounds. Now I have come down six pounds. I am not taking one of the weight loss drugs. I am just reducing sweets and also letting my self be just a little hungry and walking. I am not losing weight fast. My goal is about 2 pounds per month.

The last three days my appetite has dropped, which is a stress sign for me. I am taking my friend to get radiation and it took four hours on Thursday and three yesterday. I have to back off if my appetite goes. The combination of waiting and taking care of her is a bit too much. Partly because there are multiple snafus, in both arenas. (Now I am picturing the body parts gathering in a football arena. Wordplay.)

Today I do not have things on the schedule. I may just putter and write and think, feed the cats, do laundry. Nothing much.

How about some music? The first one is a psychedelic band album: new to me. The second is a song sung by Rotarians in the 1960s. Maybe now too, though not by our club.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: wait.

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Tenacity

Two skills needed in primary care are tenacity and listening. That is a combination that can make a diagnosis. Here is an example.

In residency, many years ago, I have a patient with developmental delay. He lives in a group home. He can’t talk though makes some noises. The group home staff bring him to me. His head is misshapen because his mother had measles in her pregnancy.

The staff says, “We think his head hurts. He just isn’t behaving right.”

“Did he fall?”

“We don’t think so.”

“Fever? Nasal congestion? Cough?”

“No.”

“How long?”

“Over the last week.”

I do an exam. I really can’t see his tympanic membranes because of his skull shape.

“Maybe he has an ear infection. I can’t see. We’ll try antibiotics, but if he is not improving, bring him back. In five days.”

They bring him back. “He’s no better.”

I get on the phone. I need a CT scan of his head and the group home say he won’t stay still. I need anesthesia to sedate him for the CT scan. It takes two tries and quite a bit of phone explaining with both the anesthesia department and the radiology department. Persistence. I am looking for a subdural bleed in his head from a fall, or a sinus infection, or something.

It is done and I get a call. Not from radiology or anesthesia but from the ear, nose and throat surgical resident. He is very excited. “Your patient!”

“Yes,” I say.

“He has a pseudocyst! In his sinuses! He has abnormally large sinuses and this is the biggest pseudocyst anyone here has ever seen!”

“Um, ok.” Honestly, I’ve never heard of a pseudocyst. It turns out to be packed nasal drainage in the sinus. Bad ones can erode through bone into the brain. Certainly that seems like the cause of the headache!

“We are taking him to surgery!”

Residency can be pretty weird, when someone gets really excited about a rare disease or interesting trauma case or whatever. I found that I was entirely happy just doing health maintenance exams and encouraging people to quit smoking and exercise and drink less. However, I was also good at finding weird things.

The ear, nose and throat surgeons in training were very happy about the surgery. The group home staff were happy too. “He’s back to his old self. Thank you!”

It took tenacity to set up the head CT. It’s important to listen to the families and caregivers too, because they know the person better than I do. They were right: his head hurt. And we found out why and were able to treat it.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: tenacity.

Water is tenacious too, wearing down stone and wood and glass.

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Delicate

I think of what is delicate in all our wide wild world
Our world itself? Yes, but more. Peace among people? No, peace
is strong as war, peace lifts my heart and roars, hoping others hear.
Most delicate is the human heart, all humans. Covid has damaged
the human hearts, we fear, we grieve, we stress and lash out
and so we go to war and wars and argue with each other.
Human hearts turn outward, we cannot see the virus and feel helpless
as the subtle battle is fought and doctors and nurses and scientists
research and die. Human hearts want an enemy they can see, they can fight
and what is better than another human? Every human is different
so there are many choices, to fight over the differences. Let us stop.
Gather our wounded, clear the rubble, find the dead and bury them.
Let us stop and cry and weep and tear our hair.
Let us mourn as a world our dead and the damage to the human heart.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: delicate.

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Tamped

The Ragtag Daily Prompt is “trial by fire“.

Which makes me think of the wars, ongoing and restarting, and the fire and death. What do we get out of killing children? Burning homes and families. I don’t understand. Revenge? To “teach a lesson”? I think it will only teach more hate.

So this morning I am listening to the Bach Magnificat and then the Rutter Magnificat. Tamp the flames of hate and lift my voice in song and may the world work towards peace. I light my candles in the early morning in prayer for us all.

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Bears all his sons away;

I wrote this story today. I am not Native American. As far as I know, I am white, but then, I have not done any genetic testing so who knows? This was inspired by a poem of the same title: https://everything2.com/user/etouffee/writeups/Bears+all+his+sons+away%253B

One
I am wailing. I am crying. The Bear came today, our bear, the tribe’s bear, our Spirit.

But he didn’t just walk through camp and take fish and his tribute.

He took my son.

He walked right up to where my wife stood still, as we must when he comes, and he lifted the boy in his paws. The boy was quiet and still, he did well, he was brave, but when the bear turned to leave, he called once.

Then our bear dropped to three legs, my son in the fourth, and turned and left.

My son, my son, my heart, my joy. Spirit Bear, return him to me!

Two
We fought, argued, for a very short time. The Shaman said that if Spirit Bear wants my son, he shall have him.

He does have him, I said, but I want him back. The Shaman knew that was true. Some shook their heads and say that my son is already dead, but most agreed with me. We were on the trail nearly immediately. The bear should not be able to move as quickly as usual when he is carrying my son. I dread evidence of my son’s loss, that he will be eaten. But that has never happened, in the history, in the songs. The Shaman said as much. But neither has a bear taken a chief’s son.

Three
Spirit Bear is moving amazingly fast on three legs. He is headed for the mountains. Not a surprise. My son may get cold. But bears are warm. My son has not been eaten.

Four
We have to make camp. I am so angry that we have not caught Spirit Bear. Out of our home camp he is fair game.

We do the Bear Dance, four times. We did not bring the masks and the young men dance the women’s part and one sings the woman’s part. We made quick rough masks and costumes. The Spirits will forgive us. This is past all understanding.

What does a Spirit Bear want with my son? Four years. No one knows.

Five
Day again. I am up before dawn praying for light, for my son, to find the Spirit Bear.

Six
We are hot on the trail. We find that Spirit Bear did sleep and rest. My son is dropping beads. Smart boy. Each bead means that he is still alive and relatively unhurt.

Seven
We have spotted them. Spirit Bear stood and looked down at us, my son tucked against his side. My son very slowly raised his arm, so he knows.

Eight
We are approaching the peak. Everyone is tired from the climb and hungry and thirsty. Yet we keep going. No one complains.

Nine
We reach the peak and Spirit Bear and my son. We arm our spears and arrows, but my son shouts “No! Look!” We turn. We see the water. There is something in the water. It has tannish wings that are filled with wind. It is huge compared with our boats.

We turn to my son. He stands and Spirit Bear leaves, ambling down the mountain, quickly, gone. I hurry to my son, sweep him up. He starts shaking and then cries, leaning his head into me.

We turn and watch the tan winged thing, which is coming against the wind. It comes at an angle and then turns, to the opposite angle, yet still it comes. We know this is new and that there can be terror or joy, we do not know which. There will be learning, we know that.

My son falls asleep. We carry him down to water and camp. We are all singing quietly, the song of new things, fear and joy. The Shaman will welcome us when we are home, and we will prepare for the winged thing. We do not know what it will bring.

We thank the Spirit Bear for warning us, for telling us to prepare.