for all interested readers...a story

"people are dying, i close my blinds"--ingrid michaelson

my patient is 90 years old and dying. today, i convinced her family that we should let her die. as i spoke with them...as i watched them hanging on to every word the senior resident and i had to say, i felt something like i would imagine a skeevy used-car salesman with a conscience would feel like. on the one hand, i wanted so much for them to just tell me what they wanted. on the other, i wanted even more for me to not be thinking about how my night would be hell if they didn't pick the do-nothing-and-treat-with-comfort-care-until-death approach. that's morbid, i know, but it's the truth. i tried to put myself in their shoes. it didn't work. i couldn't imagine it. maybe i didn't want to imagine it...i dunno...point is, though i told them what i think and feel was right, it didn't feel good.

down the hall my 80-something year old looks like crap. he's been in and out of the hospital at least 3 times in the last 2 months, and though he's not the world's most sickest man, he's also not the healthiest. i feel bad for him every time i see him in the hospital. though he looked as good as ever this morning (which isn't really all that great) there was little sense of accomplishment when i took care of him through the night. so he was stable this morning...so what? so his heart was looking better than i'd ever seen it...who cares? he's already started circling the drain and all i'm doing is blocking his way down. i feel...useless.

not to be a downer or anything...i'll be honest...i did feel slightly proud when later my senior resident was happy that i "fixed" mr. 80-something...i guess it's just that...i'm not sure how i feel about anything. at work, while i'm working, i act based off of what i think i should be doing...but it's when i'm away or have a moment to think or really look at the patient that i start overthinking til i get confused.

basically, i need to stop thinking. hah.

i guess that's all.

"every word just echoes and the empty world sings"--lisbeth scott

so i had a gossip girl marathon while cleaning my apartment. get over it. hah.

nanowrimo is coming to an end and i have no more than 4000 words. i stink. i have done nothing more than prove that residency and novel writing don't really go hand in hand. tis a shame. in reality, though, i had time to write...i just chose to be lazy. guess i'll never have the motivation to be the next khaled hosseini or michael crichton (md authors). bleh to me.

i am considering putting up my nanowrimo story up here (or on a separate account) and that way i can force myself to update weekly. i dunno though...there are a few things i need to take into consideration. firstly, it's so hard to put up an actual piece of writing (not something like this which i just write and post without really thinking about), without doing major editing. secondly, what if i hit a stump and it gets boring? thirdly, should i work on nanowrimo piece or the story i've been working on forever?<----the outcome of this answer brings up a whole list of other questions, which i won't get into.

any suggestions would be appreciated (guess that means you, saq...i don't seem to get many other hits...hehe). or if the idea sounds bad all together, lemme know that too.

the weather was great today. i know this only because i decided to do laundry and that required me stepping out of my house, running over to the unit next to mine and using the laundry room there. a lil piece of me wanted to go to a park. okay...i lie...a huge piece of me wanted to go to a park, however, every piece of me knew that once i got there, i would be bored and wondering what i was doing there and head straight back here. so...basically, i'm glad i didn't go.

start nights tonight. goodbye nonexistent life. i'm going to nap now and then i'll get up and head on outta here. not all too exciting, but i am content. let's keep it that way.

"you never knew me at all but i see you"--mika

****i heard this song today and it reminded me of a character i have (and have been trying to work on forever)...so figured i'd semi-introduce her here. you may never see her again, unless, of course, i hear something else that reminds me of her. anyway...it's short and not much...****

The baby grand piano was seldom silent. It often sung loudly as the tiny fingers danced up and down its slender keys. Sometimes it sang in fragments, and at others it sang whole songs, in key and out of key, trying to find the sound it liked best. If the piano was other than an inanimate object, it would have been rather tired by the end of the long day, but because it felt neither weary nor broken down, it was often up until the late hours of the night, singing loudly whenever the tiny fingers felt the need to dance upon it.

The piano’s song made up for the lack of song that came out of the girl who sat by it. She let her fingers do the talking and the piano do the translating because she loved to hear what they had to say. Sometimes she cried if they told a story that moved her, but mostly she listened with the same soft, far away expression that she would listen to either you or I.

If the piano were other than a piano, it would not have been surprised to hear the phone ring early one morning. As usual the girl who seemed to survive without sleep, walked over to the phone as if she were expecting this early morning wake-up call.

“Hello?” she asked quietly.

“Zo,” replied the voice with a slight hint of obviously hidden panic.

“What’s wrong?” for those people who had ever seen the usual peaceful looking face, they would have been surprised at how stable her eyes were in comparison to the rest of her face that betrayed her calmness. She felt the panic in her brother’s voice and the memories made her shudder.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Okay.”

“No…no. I need to come over. You up?”

“Of course. You could’ve just come by,” she said in her usual quiet voice.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“But what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Listen, don’t worry about it and I’m coming over, okay?”

“Yea.”

“Just make sure you’re there, okay?”

“Okay, yea…but…”

“All right, just…wait.”

With confusion on her face, Zo hung up the phone. She sat at her piano, and thought over her brother’s words. It was easy to tell herself that everything was going to be fine, but to believe it seemed impossible. And so she waited for the inevitable, and time never went more slowly.

"just relax, take it easy. you're still young, that's your fault, there's so much you have to know"--cat stevens

made the mistake of buying swiss cake rolls (swiss roll cakes??) yesterday. dunno why i did it. must have a secret, subconscious wish of becoming a lardo. the whole day i thought about how i can't believe i bought them and that it was a waste of money and i'll never eat more than the one i had last night...well...like most things in life, i was wrong. even after my very filling dinner, i stuffed my face with chocolatey delightness, and i enjoyed every freaking second of it.

yea...that's right. lardoville, here i come.

with mom in pak, i have rather longer phone conversations with the paternal unit. i always enjoy talking to him and he likes hearing about my day, so i just babble away whether or not he's listening and it's all good. on a regular basis (even before mom went to pak), my dad reminds me of all the blessings in my life. he'll go through the last few years of my life and all the moments that might have upset me, he'll show me how really they were blessings in disguise. spiritually...emotionally...i dunno what...he's at this whole other level...and i say that not because he tells me things that i don't know...but because he always remembers the good. he's always the optimist. he can always find good in bad and he will patiently wait (most likely with a smile) for the worst to be done.

to be honest, it's hard for me to keep in mind the blessings of being here in michigan when all i want is to take a flight home for eid weekend, which happens to fall the day after thanksgiving. my eyes may or may not have welled up (i admit to nothing) when i couldn't find a ticket for less than 400-some odd dollars for a trip that would be only 2 nights at home.

i've missed so many eids and whatever that it shouldn't even matter at this point if i miss another, but it still does.

and i guess really it's not even about the eids. there's always just so much more.

i wish i could be my dad. bleh.

"how i'll never be anything i hate. you smile, mention something that you like"--Franz Ferdinand

i had been in the most foul mood since saturday night. i know friday i was normal...perhaps even hyper (i had a chocolate dinner), and i know saturday throughout most of the day i was in very light spirits as i tried to work on catching up on my nanowrimo story (still ridiculously behind. i will prevail). then, sometime between 8 and 9pm, my mood went quite suddenly downhill and it remained that way for all of yesterday and the greater part of today.

when i'm in a bad mood, i can hear my heart "grumble grumble" and as for most people, everything in the world bothers me. it's funny...i spent most of today making a mental list of all the things that i was going to complain about on here when i got home and now...now i'm not irritable anymore and i can't remember even ONE thing to complain about. i'm freaking crazy.

i was on the computer around 4 this afternoon, still grumbling in my mind, when this person who i've never been so fond of came into the room to use the other computer. i rolled my eyes and continued my work without paying much attention and hoping he wouldn't start talking to me. of course he did. this person talks loudly...his voice resonates in a manner that i've always thought was too obnoxious, especially when i'm tired or not in the mood to hear it (which is most of the time). i have no real big reason to dislike him...i just like to keep a distance. so anyway...he starts talking and i don't want to be rude so i reply and next thing i know, we're having a full blown conversation and i'm not feeling so angry anymore. what the whaaat?? i don't understand what happened! but i won't question it, because feeling grumbly is just NOT for me.

maybe i needed something like that to remind me that though i generally have little patience for people, i'm just not a hater...and that even the most annoying, obnoxious person in the world can make me smile and make me feel like me again. i'll still roll my eyes when this guy speaks (well...mentally, i will), and i'll probably give a small unhappy sounding grunt whenever i see him walking my way, but i'll always know that he's not so horrendous and that on my worst feeling day, he got me to normal, and i dunno...that's pretty awesome.

i know this is a really cheezy post...after so many hours of feeling low, i'm at a high right now...hopefully by next post i'll be at baseline and less of a cheezball. take care, peeps.

"eternal life is now on my trail. got my red glitter coffin, man, just need one last nail" --jeff buckley

he was just a middle-aged man. younger than my father. less than twice my age. he looked like he was 80, at least. a gray, out of control beard down to his chest might've been the least of what aged him. he had a thin frame and he was wrinkly with a dry mouth and big eyes that stared straight at me and then away at nothing. they were gray, or blue, or green...i can't remember, which is weird because i always remember eyes. his wife sat there by his bed, looking lost and alone. i'm sure she was younger than me and i wondered why she was with this man who was old enough to be her father and looked old enough to be her grandfather and who was dying because of his own vices.

it was weird to talk to her because she made me wonder if she really even knew him at all. she answered questions with shoulder shrugs and confused looks and it seemed to me that maybe she was with him, not to be his partner in life, but because he was her torn and tattered security blanket.

the man was yellow. literally. and he was dying. i was told he would die by my attending. i was told he would die by his internist. i knew he was going to die. and still, while i was working on another patient on the same floor today, and i looked in the direction of his room and saw that it was empty i thought that he must've been transferred to critical care. when i asked the clerk where he was she looked at me confused and then told me he passed away as she pointed to a sticky note on her computer that confirmed his death.

does death ever belong on a sticky note?

i've seen plenty of patients die during the last few years and i have become (or always have been) like one of the many, many other desensitized drones that works in a hospital. his death was no more significant, but i did for a moment think about his wife. a morbid piece of me wondered what she looked like when heard of her husband's death. her security blanket snatched from her, would she be in withdrawal and longing for that comfort or would she feel free of a man who was drowning in his own sickness?

i'll never know the answer and by tomorrow i'll forget all about her...and him...but figured the occasional post to myself will remind me that for a brief moment, though i might not have felt normal remorse or grief...at least i felt something. and because we all live for moments that make us feel more human...well...i guess that's my moment for today.

gnite.