Yesterday, I sat , babysitting a guy coming down off meth. Watching him bang his head on the walls, and running in to stop him from doing it every so often. He talks to me in an Irish accent, telling me his name is Liam.....But it's not. Just previously he spoke to my co-worker, in fluent canadian accent, explaining his life's trials and what led him to meth.
As much as I want to invest in the lives of others, I did not want to invest in this. Too many personalities, and pretences. I don't have the mental capacities to keep up.
I just wanted my hot coffee.
Later a soccer player comes in,
Head injury,
17 yrs old,
And it took 8 of us to hold her still while they injected her with something to anesthetize her long enough to do a scan of her head.
God, was she strong.
God, do I hurt.
God, why did I even buy a coffee this morning when it exists in another part of the hospital?
All this travelling from different departments.....My coffee has become foreign...possibly cold.
Police asked us to keep an eye on a young offender waiting to see the Psychiatrist.
Apparently he had 6 warrants for his arrest...and now we have to keep an eye on him so he doesn't run away....
All I asked myself was....am I ever going to be able to sit and just enjoy the rest of my coffee and read a bit from my book.
Everyone seemed to demand attention from me yesterday.
Even the most delightful taste of my coffee set between three rooms with volitile patients....i was becoming more volitile as it sat there getting cold...
Eventually while I was tending to something else...Housekeeping came by and found a cold coffee sitting there alone and dumped it down the drain thinking it had been abandoned....
My pockets were empty. I could not buy another....
....and it had English Toffee syrup in it.....I paid extra!
I came home exhausted.
Sat in the car for 4 minutes after shutting the engine down just to breathe. I looked over at my backpack and dreaded the burden of lifting it to my shoulder , should I ever decide to get out and go into the house.
But Surprise for me that day, The love of my life had come over, with pizza ordered and tulips for me.
The tulips I had always prayed for, the tulips I envisioned I would carry if someday I would marry.
White ones, with a bit of yellow ones and a hint of orange. I opened the paper and saw them and hugged them with my face deep inside the wrapper and smelled them....Breathing in.
My day at the hospital dissapeared then, as I sat to eat with the two I hold so close to me right now. My tulips set at the table where we eat (....minus a few because Tim wanted my daughter to have some for her room.)
and when it was all over, he still got up and kissed me for being such a good cook.
This morning...my tulips are awakening, more of them crawling out of the greenery to greet me.
Beautiful....
fabulous....
romantic....
...especially with my coffee....
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Saturday, February 16, 2008
The Tint of Red.
My hands were covered in blood today.
Before last night's shift, All I could think about was the pink sky on the horizon on Valentine's day. It was a wonderful sight. Bird's soaring...floating, really, on the chinook wind that carried them in stillness over the water of the resevior near my house. It was beautiful, and the birds called out, reminding me of my other home on the shores of the UK's Southwest .
But today was red.
Sometimes you forget to put on gloves. or you've run out of them...and the urgency for your hand to help is needed right now.
In a whirlwind of drunken confusion, I stood next to a man who was detoxing from a 2 week binge of drinking. He had no idea where he was...let alone who he was....and his blood was all over the place....and on my hands.
My pink sky turned red today in a sea of casualties and dying people that flooded the room of Emergency.
Yes, I work in Emergency. I have for the last 10 years.
Blood.
it's scary sometimes....
especially when you don't know what's in it...
or what it's gotten into.....
Later I tried to help police undress a man who was soothed by my voice but aggitated by theirs. I only walked 5 feet away and minutes later a tazer was held to his chest.
Police Brutality,
Excessive force,
"Constable Chauchy"...is what everyone referred to him as....actually, it was me that called him that.
Possibly a case of "small man syndrome" wearing a red stripe down the side of his pants.
Now I understand the stuff on the news.
Give these boys new toys and a small dick and they become worse for wear when fighting crime on our streets.
Show offs.
I hate cops
Young cops
New cops.
Adrenaline junkies,
all hopped up on power,
They see blood on their hands and it's of their own doing, their own proddings, their own tauntings...and then when presumed guilty they cover each other and wash their hands free of the speculation.
The good old boys club.
Dirty cops.
A force to be reckoned with.
Oh Lord, Give me strength!!
No matter how much they wash thier hands thiy're still dirty cops.
I wanted to be one some time ago...
Thank God , I was prodded in another direction.
Instead we clean up their mess and tuck their clients all into bed, send them home sober and safe, with someone's business card in their hand for the next bad day they come across.
And at the end of the day we wash our hands.... and are free to carry on.
Guilt Free.
Sound.
Clear headed.
Secure.....with our own abilities to handle the situation....
No stripes,
No tazers,
.....just gloves....if we have time,
Confidence in teamwork,
And hearts that give and voices that soothe.
and as the blood washes away
....it turns pink .....
as it fades down the drain.
I am reminded of my Valentine's Day pink sky....
and the birds....
on the southwest shores of the UK.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Plain Jane beautiful 2
"Jane, It's after 3 am...What are you doing?"
"I'm being inspired."
Charcoal crumbs disappeared from my fingers as a drew a luminous figure on my wall.
Father always saw my talent but did not quite understand where it came from and why at such stupendous hours of the mornings.
"Jane you have school in the morning!"
"I know, Father. I am almost finished."
He closed my door after standing there in his old man underwear, awakened by the light from my room that spilled out into the hallway. I often imagined that it had snuck in under his door and tickled his nose to wake him. It always woke him.
I looked up at my figure, a faceless man in a toppled hat, that hid behind my door when it was open, but watched over me as I slept. He kept me company when I was was left to my own devices in my room.
I looked at my hands.....black with soot.
I wiped them on my shirt and went to bed. My mother would be mad at my laundry somewhere down the road. She always found paint or something there.
She came into my room and saw the figure behind the door
"Oh My Gad!"
My mother didn't like him.
"Where's his face , Jane?"
I drew it faintly because in essence he knew how I felt....how people looked at me...how I sometimes wanted to look at myself.
" It's there mother, You just have to picture it for yourself."
"Oh"....she stared and then commented that i had better clean my room before my father got home from work.
...Then she left.
"
Jane....She doesn't like me..." He said.
"She doesn't have to..... You belong to me anyway.....I like you. Is that not enough?"
"Why do I have to stay behind the door, Jane?"
I closed the door and gave him full access to my room.
I opened the curtains too.
"This is your place when I"m at school."
"You can have it."
"Mrs. Johnson won't let me draw you at school. She says you look evil..."
"SO I'm keeping you here and giving you more space than a piece of paper."
He stood over 6 feet tall, his hat slumped because of my ceiling, his back slouched to fit.
He smiled at me.
In my heart he had been given something, given life, a heart, character and he was full of questions...
He wasn't a voice in my head...he was someone that I created. fictional, yet real .
And I loved him....so he could love me back.....
because so many couldn't....
Much like me...created.... to be loved....Plain Jane, yet beautiful.
with a heart and character.
with so many questions.....
Despite the librarians in the mirror or the voices at school.
My mother painted over him years ago....but I still see him behind the door.
It's still his room while I'm gone.
"I've missed you, Jane."
" You look beautiful!"
I smiled at him.
His hat slumped....his smile wide.
"I am beautiful!"
"I'm being inspired."
Charcoal crumbs disappeared from my fingers as a drew a luminous figure on my wall.
Father always saw my talent but did not quite understand where it came from and why at such stupendous hours of the mornings.
"Jane you have school in the morning!"
"I know, Father. I am almost finished."
He closed my door after standing there in his old man underwear, awakened by the light from my room that spilled out into the hallway. I often imagined that it had snuck in under his door and tickled his nose to wake him. It always woke him.
I looked up at my figure, a faceless man in a toppled hat, that hid behind my door when it was open, but watched over me as I slept. He kept me company when I was was left to my own devices in my room.
I looked at my hands.....black with soot.
I wiped them on my shirt and went to bed. My mother would be mad at my laundry somewhere down the road. She always found paint or something there.
She came into my room and saw the figure behind the door
"Oh My Gad!"
My mother didn't like him.
"Where's his face , Jane?"
I drew it faintly because in essence he knew how I felt....how people looked at me...how I sometimes wanted to look at myself.
" It's there mother, You just have to picture it for yourself."
"Oh"....she stared and then commented that i had better clean my room before my father got home from work.
...Then she left.
"
Jane....She doesn't like me..." He said.
"She doesn't have to..... You belong to me anyway.....I like you. Is that not enough?"
"Why do I have to stay behind the door, Jane?"
I closed the door and gave him full access to my room.
I opened the curtains too.
"This is your place when I"m at school."
"You can have it."
"Mrs. Johnson won't let me draw you at school. She says you look evil..."
"SO I'm keeping you here and giving you more space than a piece of paper."
He stood over 6 feet tall, his hat slumped because of my ceiling, his back slouched to fit.
He smiled at me.
In my heart he had been given something, given life, a heart, character and he was full of questions...
He wasn't a voice in my head...he was someone that I created. fictional, yet real .
And I loved him....so he could love me back.....
because so many couldn't....
Much like me...created.... to be loved....Plain Jane, yet beautiful.
with a heart and character.
with so many questions.....
Despite the librarians in the mirror or the voices at school.
My mother painted over him years ago....but I still see him behind the door.
It's still his room while I'm gone.
"I've missed you, Jane."
" You look beautiful!"
I smiled at him.
His hat slumped....his smile wide.
"I am beautiful!"
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Wrecked at Sea
I remember sitting on the sofa next to my girlfriend watching these movies that consisted of 15 minutes of sheer awe. Teaching us to look at life from a different angle. from the inside and with our eyes allowing our soul to experience wreckage.
So many of us function in this world as the sea does,
with Ebbs and flows of the waves of the working class,
the socialite mothers with their strollers and latte's,
jr high girls dressed the same , tressed the same, talking & walking the same.
Yet to experience actual wreckage on this sea of life as the world knows it is so messed up.
We dispose of our spouses and friends like we do the news paper, and driving to work has to be like microwaving your "minutes only " pasta dinner.
People want to kill themselves beacuase a doctor gives them a bad report and they don't want their family to suffer with them....be burdened.
Children murder their parents because they had a fight.
People freeze to death on the streets because it's -56 degrees out.
These things seems to disappear into the calendar , maybe strike a page in the newspaper. and then we toss it away.....
Like the note in the bottle tossed at sea...hoping someone will rescue them.....
Wrecked at sea.
I've been on that boat.
I've been wrecked.
I stood in the food bank lineup for an entire year...
I had sherriffs repossess everything I had .
My ex went bankrupt and left me with over $10,000 in monetary debts leaving me still paying it 10 years down the road.
My best friends since kindergarten ditched me when I told them I was pregnant....
I was yesterday's news
and my baby became a burden...
My pregnancy was lonely,
Until my daughter arrived.
her birthday a beautiful one and no-one to share it with.
Her father walked out when she was only 2.
Somedays she was the wind in my sails.
she kept me going.
Only two....
telling me how to smile like her
and brushing my face with her tiny hand telling me that she would take care of me.
and so we sailed....
we met many passers by,
people who smiled but didn't say anything...
people who prayed and well wished us.....but never phoned.
we sailed....
and sometimes I lost her. not knowing what babysitter I had left her with...leaving me weeping on my doorstep asking God to remind me of who I gave her to for the night.
for years we sailed...many faces, and still no one stopped to stay...
to linger....
to visit
or be our friends
Wrecked at sea...
No one payed attention.....
No one stopped to ask intently....
they asked how I was but did not care to hear my answers....
they say they miss you or pray for you
they think of you...but no one ever phones....
no one ever looks into your cupboards to see that you only have a block of cheese, some powdered milk in a jug, a large box of rice crispies and not enough peanut butter to last the week.
They didn't know that all I ate all day was water and the crusts she would not eat.
wrecked at sea.....
floating....
waiting...
One day I docked into the north end of this city to talk and listen to a voice I had only heard through her husband's cell phone. and quickly... she saw the wreckage...and I saw hers...and we milled through it...still remembering each other and the children in the midst....
which everyone else forgot....
we built each other up... and then she set sail for manitoba....
But I hear her every day...and see her in the distance. never docking...just sailing...and she's coming back to me...her family too....
"Row, row Row your boat,
Gently down the stream....."
She has the man power. with faith as her rudder and 5 men in her life to do her bidding...because she is highly praised by them....to help her row in faith.
for here their wreckage has supplies and all of their needs met......and a place to dock and refuel.... and a friend....
consistent
waiting.....
Soon they will re-settle...and they will rejoice....and I with them...with her...and our children....
and will sing,....
"Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily,
Life is but a dream."
Wrecked at sea....
row your boat...
faith will guide you if you let it.
Look for the shore...
It is there.
......and there will be people waving you in....
So many of us function in this world as the sea does,
with Ebbs and flows of the waves of the working class,
the socialite mothers with their strollers and latte's,
jr high girls dressed the same , tressed the same, talking & walking the same.
Yet to experience actual wreckage on this sea of life as the world knows it is so messed up.
We dispose of our spouses and friends like we do the news paper, and driving to work has to be like microwaving your "minutes only " pasta dinner.
People want to kill themselves beacuase a doctor gives them a bad report and they don't want their family to suffer with them....be burdened.
Children murder their parents because they had a fight.
People freeze to death on the streets because it's -56 degrees out.
These things seems to disappear into the calendar , maybe strike a page in the newspaper. and then we toss it away.....
Like the note in the bottle tossed at sea...hoping someone will rescue them.....
Wrecked at sea.
I've been on that boat.
I've been wrecked.
I stood in the food bank lineup for an entire year...
I had sherriffs repossess everything I had .
My ex went bankrupt and left me with over $10,000 in monetary debts leaving me still paying it 10 years down the road.
My best friends since kindergarten ditched me when I told them I was pregnant....
I was yesterday's news
and my baby became a burden...
My pregnancy was lonely,
Until my daughter arrived.
her birthday a beautiful one and no-one to share it with.
Her father walked out when she was only 2.
Somedays she was the wind in my sails.
she kept me going.
Only two....
telling me how to smile like her
and brushing my face with her tiny hand telling me that she would take care of me.
and so we sailed....
we met many passers by,
people who smiled but didn't say anything...
people who prayed and well wished us.....but never phoned.
we sailed....
and sometimes I lost her. not knowing what babysitter I had left her with...leaving me weeping on my doorstep asking God to remind me of who I gave her to for the night.
for years we sailed...many faces, and still no one stopped to stay...
to linger....
to visit
or be our friends
Wrecked at sea...
No one payed attention.....
No one stopped to ask intently....
they asked how I was but did not care to hear my answers....
they say they miss you or pray for you
they think of you...but no one ever phones....
no one ever looks into your cupboards to see that you only have a block of cheese, some powdered milk in a jug, a large box of rice crispies and not enough peanut butter to last the week.
They didn't know that all I ate all day was water and the crusts she would not eat.
wrecked at sea.....
floating....
waiting...
One day I docked into the north end of this city to talk and listen to a voice I had only heard through her husband's cell phone. and quickly... she saw the wreckage...and I saw hers...and we milled through it...still remembering each other and the children in the midst....
which everyone else forgot....
we built each other up... and then she set sail for manitoba....
But I hear her every day...and see her in the distance. never docking...just sailing...and she's coming back to me...her family too....
"Row, row Row your boat,
Gently down the stream....."
She has the man power. with faith as her rudder and 5 men in her life to do her bidding...because she is highly praised by them....to help her row in faith.
for here their wreckage has supplies and all of their needs met......and a place to dock and refuel.... and a friend....
consistent
waiting.....
Soon they will re-settle...and they will rejoice....and I with them...with her...and our children....
and will sing,....
"Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily,
Life is but a dream."
Wrecked at sea....
row your boat...
faith will guide you if you let it.
Look for the shore...
It is there.
......and there will be people waving you in....
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