“Today is a good morning.”How did I not feel it?Phone rings, stomach knots, answer it.“Are you sitting down?”I don’t sit. I sink, then float, looking down at the scrub-cladgirl shivering on thehospital floor.Footsteps approach, tentative hands on shoulders.“I don’t want to be the girl whose mom died.”

Jaundiced, she presented with acute hepatitis C.Pre-contemplative but concerned, she asked for clean needles.Unable but determined, we offered the 18-year-old mother offour a Nexplanon instead.Implant in place, she proclaimed “now I am invincible!”Later, withdrawing, she quietly left with an IV still in place.Embarrassed, we chuckled and claimed “harm reduction.”

In extremis, her husband deposited her in the ED while bloodpoured from her mouth.Mortified, I wrapped myself in plastic and said “Do you need ahand?”Tremulous, my hands cramped as the Yonker struggled to keepup.Dissociated, I looked at the ceiling and dreamt of red Blakemoreballoons floating to the sky.

Hungover, she presented with her pancreas inflamed.Lucid, fluids and morphine went into her veins.Obtunded, she went to the ICU with an overlooked Tylenollevel.Humbled, my attending said, “This is the part that sucks.”Suppressed, her son caught my eye through a glass-door as Ished a tear and went back to work.

People crowdingPatient is crashingI stand in lineHeart pounding My turn is upI feel crackingRibs fracturingI hear the resident sayLet’s consider stoppingBut next roundROSC was obtained PatientNow intubatedPosturingBruisedTime of deathCame much later Makes me wonderIf we did more harmThan good

Patient on swallow precautionsBecause of a recent trip to the MICUFor aspiration pneumonia I go to examine herLifting her sheets gingerly,to not disturb her sleep And there, right by her mouthIs a Lindt chocolate bunnyWith the head bit right off When you’re 85,Some things are worth aspirating for