Cadaver.

Tendons, vessels, muscle, bone-
little more than its sum, alone.
Without life, alone.

A heart upon your fingers,
fibers smooth, firmness lingers.
A pump sleeps, alone.

Nerves, severed and denuded,
shimmering, taut, function diluted.
Pain without feeling, alone.

A lung, delicate sponge, blackened,
absorbs an essence, greyed, maddened.
Vacant sacs, stale breaths, alone.

The cerebrum, split, its valleys and mounds,
embodies a soul, full, without bounds.
My lifeless being is nothing alone.

How I Wish I Were a Dog!

(by Samantha the Cat)

Oh, how I wish I were a dog!
A wonderfully peppy puppy dog.
Full of wisdom, stature, energy, true-
Full of wonder and curiosity, why, just like you!

Oh, how I wish I were a dog!
Carefree, whimsical, and happy with all.
I would run around, roll, and jump up high,
Fly in the air, fetch, oh gravity, I defy!

Oh, how I wish I were a dog!
Never without grace, my tongue hanging down.
I would grin all day, play, pant, and slobber,
Lick my human’s face? Of course, it’s no bother!

But alas, I was born to be merely a cat…
A simple, ordinary kitty cat.
But I adore my human, and she loves me,
So I guess it’s not too bad, wouldn’t you agree?

Samantha the Cat
My best impression of a dog with a tongue hanging out.

The Sleep.

Rivulets of sorrow meandering
down tear-stained skin.

“Keep her comfortable
until it’s time.”   

Simple words-
echoes
of eternal reminder within.
You rise.

Guiding her
through the threshold
into the chill,

shudders
of realization emerge.

You survey
the molting trees,

their arid leaves
embellishing her hair
like fragments of
woven rhinestones.
As if they weep for her.
As if even the ambiances
of ages past are beseeching
her not to leave.

Soon arrives the Foehn,
holding you within
its warm embrace.
Its breaths,
whispering lines of truth,
sculpt a bittersweet tune
as they herald
the evening’s arrival.
You understand.

Cloaked
by lyrics of singing ivy,
her expression calms,
your fears dissolve.
Consoled by a draft possessive,
you cradle her
through the darkness
and follow her
toward the seraph’s call
into the fold of
midnight slumber.

The Liebster Award – A poem [of sorts]

So I found out today
about the Liebster award,
so I thought I’d create a rhyme for you
with the hope that you won’t get bored.

I’ll start by thanking my nominator
who in this case is good ol’ ‘Jemverse,’
and then answer his eleven questions,
so I don’t get pushed into a hearse.

First question would be who inspires me,
and that in many cases are my patients,
as they never fail to touch my heart
through our encounter, our conversations.

Now while my favorite author is Dostoevsky,
my favorite book is not by him,
but Pathologies of Power, on health in developing countries-
a situation that’s dire and rather grim.

While a lot of my blog is about medicine
my first post was simpler than that-
which also brings me to my most treasured possession-
who is none other than my big, fluffy cat.

Now on to question six; we’re half way through:
“If you were a color, what would you be?”
I guess I would be brown, ‘cause it’s kind of bland
Which I’m afraid in several ways may describe me.

As for where I would like to visit-
the Galapagos…definitely.
And I would bring my first pet, Pepper
to play with the tortoises- a scene quite heavenly!

Now I will tell you my favorite flower,
which I’ll say is the water lily,
simply because I also like frogs-
oops, that reasoning is rather silly!

And as for whom I admire-
besides my mom, would be the saxophonist, the “Bird,”
which brings me to the last question- my favorite song-
“Blues for Alice”- one of the best pieces I’ve ever heard.

So thank you so much for bearing with me
as I recite my silly rhyme-
one so marvelously atrocious
it should certainly be made a crime!

 •                

11 Fast Fun Facts about PuppyDoc:

– She plays the alto saxophone and had aspired to be ‘the female Charlie Parker’ but ended up in medicine instead.
– She has traveled to many places around the world by herself, mainly to work and volunteer.
– In one of the countries, she befriended a stray ring-tailed lemur with whom she shared her cactus fruit everyday.
– In another country, she got a couple of mosquito-borne illnesses back-to-back.
– She grew up watching “I Love Lucy” and knows all the episodes by heart.
– She grew up watching “Sound of Music” and knows the script by heart.
– She’s an only child..
– Her first and only canine was Pepper, a Dalmatian (pictured below), whom she had for 14 ½ good years.
– She thinks possums are cute.
– The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles had significant influence on her in that she now quite enjoys anchovy pizza.
– She gives most patients hugs.

As mentioned above, a really big thank you to Jem Croucher at ‘Jemverse- Life in Words’ blog for nominating me for the Liebster Award. It’s an honor and one I’m quite pleased to accept.

Now I’d like to nominate three blogs for the Liebster Award:

C-Dog & Company

Let Your Bark Create

Idacity

This is Pepper.
This is Pepper.

•      •      •

 

With Love,
PuppyDoc

A New Day.


What do we do, come that day,

when walk we must through vacant streets,
when frore and tremulous become the nights,
and windowpanes with autumn’s dew weep?

What do we do, come that day,
when summertide flees from bitter air’s chase,
when even the trees forsake their leaves,
And swallows depart to a fitter place?

For that day has come,

and now we weep,

as the earth reclaims another,

their souls now sleep.

But come winter’s call new snow will fall,
then
autumn’s death will be entombed.

And as morning rays gleam through curtain seams,
New seedlings in our hearts will bloom.

Then we will know that a new day has come. 

This Poem is Dedicated to the Memory of Rhonda Elkins and her daughter, Kaitlyn.

A Love Unknown.

Flames softening a heart of stone
fading away each zealous stream.
A spirit dulled through nights of black
blossoms stars from a faerie dream.
A soul once dampened by frigid tears
warmed by a love now found.
Mangled wings bound by the sun
now airily flitter upon the clouds.

Drifting through the sands of time,
celestial burning suffuse the night.
The sweetness of the morning dew
caress my heart with wondrous light.
Your grace, beauty, and wisdom great
have seized my heart in awe unbound,
The earth, now below us, faint-
how sublime it is, this love we’ve found.

Hello, November!

Dear Diary,

Today has brought with it a brand new day, along with its graying skies and chilled dew. As I sit here, the beginnings of a particular Shakespearean sonnet come to mind…

“That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang…”

Take care everyone.

 

Love,
Phoebe and Samantha


Phoebe and samantha

To Say Goodbye.

Moisture burning her vision.
In the dark, it hides her eyes.
Teardrops.
Clinging onto her, one falls onto her lap
and stains her skirt.
She mourns.

Comfort her.
Tell her it will be okay.
That the shadow of a moment
may not stretch into tomorrow’s light.
That the ocean,
at its blackest
is still a reflection of the sky,
and she will not drown.

But the tide has come to take you home.
To her smile and her strength
she bids farewell.
Her heart, a piece borrowed and now returned,
departs with you.
She says goodbye.

phoebe-chi-grandpa

 

The Tragedy Behind a Poem.

We did it. We took it out.

Slowly, the oxygen saturation dropped.
Gradually, the alarms sounded.
Insisting. Imploring us to do something.
We turned them off.
Made him comfortable.
But we knew we couldn’t hide the truth.

We were letting him suffocate.

~     ~     ~

A lucid man.
A failing lung. A decision made.
A breathing tube placed—just temporarily—
until the lungs healed.
Until they got stronger. Until he got stronger.
But I saw the regret the moment it was inserted.
Nevertheless. We agreed to give it a chance.

But days passed. Then weeks.
No improvement.
Being alert, he communicated with us well.
Through his writing, I got to know him well.
His adventures. His best memory. His regrets in life.
He was a good man.

But a man who never desired to live like this.

While the family disputed on what course of action to take next,
he remained calm and unwavering.

“Please let me go.” was what he would say.

Then finally the moment came.

The time to say goodbye.

~     ~     ~

That day, I let myself weep during rounds.
In front of a crowd of stoic faces.
To weep over a friend.
To weep over a human being.
Over his courage.
An impossible decision.
The loss of a life.
Everything.

Because I didn’t want to do it. But I did.

I let go.

•      •      •

“To Let Go” – the poem

Let Him Speak for Me…

A few words by Shakespeare which speak more truthfully than any piece I could write at the moment…

The flaming sighs that boil within my breast
Sometime break forth; and they can well declare
The heart’s unrest, and how that it doth fare,
The pain thereof, the grief, and all the rest.
The watered eye, from whence the tears do fall,
Do feel some force or else they would be dry…

Some people call this a hospital.
I like to call this a place of my P’s.
A hidden treasure
in a downtown peach orchard

where all my P’s roam.
But don’t panic.
Let’s pause.

This is the place
where physicians palpate,
pain is palliated,
and papillae are poked.

Patients are pacified,
parking is pitiful,
penlights are peddled,
and parolees panto.

But me?
I just call this home.

 

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