Random thoughts, poetry and pictures

Random thoughts, poetry and pictures
A taste of my skewed view of the world.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

What If?

What if I die
And I haven’t cooked dinner for you?
Haven’t held your hand?
Haven’t argued with you?
Comforted you?
Kissed you?

What if I die
And I haven’t told you that you're beautiful?
Haven’t pushed you
Teased you
Challenged you
Nurtured
Or encouraged you?

What if I die
And I haven’t shared a sunset with you
Walked in the moonlight with you
Watched a movie with you
Given you gifts
Been mad at you
Cried with you

What if I die
And I haven’t said I love you?
Will you ever know?


(C)BT 2009

Twisted

Hope this doesn't offend anyone,
Just have to get it off my chest.

I’ve smelled burned flesh,
Blood, shit, piss, puke,
Bacterial infections, and toxic chemicals.

I’ve sorted body parts
After a terrorist bombing
Knowing that one of the bodies
Could be someone I love.

I’ve remained professional and nonjudgmental
While working with a man
Who sodomized his six-month old daughter.

I’ve sat with a woman and convinced her
That the unrecognizable person in the burn unit
Is her 18-year-old son,
Who will not survive.

I’ve watched a man have a stroke
Because of the medication I gave him
To dissolve the blood clot in his coronary artery.

I’ve administered 360 joules of electrical energy
To a woman’s chest,
Over and over again,
Knowing there is no chance for survival.

I’ve stayed with a patient
Until he died after we stopped the ventilator,
Then cried with the family
And prepared the body for the morgue.

I’ve heard the cries of a 20-year-old girl
Who miscarried
In the seventh month.

I’ve started an IV on a convicted murderer.

I’ve stood watch in the trauma center
When the president was in town,
Hoping some wacko
Wouldn’t choose tonight to assassinate.

I’ve felt ribs break while doing CPR.

I’ve done mouth to mouth
On a man in cardiac arrest
Whose arm was amputated at the shoulder
From a motor vehicle collision.

I’ve felt skin come off the wrist
Of the body I was removing from a house fire.

I’ve cracked jokes
While removing the tattoo of a swastika
From a white supremacist’s burned shoulder.

I’ve started an IV
In a drug addict’s penis
Because it was the only vein he hadn’t used.

I’ve had a patient’s finger
Come off in my hand
During a burn dressing.

I’ve taken care of a mob style-shooting victim
Before PD arrived,
Knowing that the shooter
Could still be out there
And I might have a target on my back.

I’ve laughed, joked, shouted and cried
While listening to the equally horrific stories
Of firemen, policemen, nurses, doctors and soldiers
Over pizza and beer.

...No wonder I'm twisted


(C)BT 2010