Coffee, please
It was third year
It was third year
Surgery, first day.
To me, there is always significance in hearts—
Gay
“Rate, rhythm, axis…” I try to be systematic
50 yo M. Metastatic Prostate Cancer.
Home exhausted
Last night I dreamt of the coronaries drifting from the aorta.
In the hospital all day, my partner ill each night.
I had run the hill past the Montessori school hundreds of times.
It’s that time of the month…
My inner light dims…
Why was there an animal in my mother’s hospital room?
Got a phone call.
Not me, I thought.
The middle-aged woman whined her way through minimally toxic chemotherapy.
The old man insisted on being driven by his house on the way from inpatient to VA rehab…
“On medication for life? No way!”
We, too busy to teach and really listen…
It was spring.
After many days of rounding…
Alone.
My 20s, training…
I imagine they were depressed before it all began, but unaware.
They say we are great, trustworthy…