Monday, March 26, 2007

Another reawakening, an eye-opener of realization. I wrote about it back in 1995, and now a recent issue of a local Nursing magazine, has substantiated what I feared back then; Nursing is burying itself in "after-the-name-titles identified with mysterious letter combinations", where everyone and anyone, has to make their little stamp of recognition. It seems so childish to me. Who gives a rats-ass? Why not just show the RN, and then carry around a little card with all your extra-special, super-duper, ain't they awesome, look what I did, credentials identified by their "letters" and what the heck it all means. Stop giving me a headache, every time I pick up some nursing literature, Ok?

And this is just the beginning! Stay tuned for the latest interpretations.

Toxic Credential Syndrome

I was present at a seminar
Just the other day,
Presented by some experts
They captured me all day,
Enthralled I was, I must admit
Astounded, I confess,
I learned some facts I never knew
But I pause, and now digress.

What captured my attention
Were the credentials after each name,
Without a glossary to help me
I was almost put to shame,
When I realized no one else
Would know the meanings, either,
I silently relaxed
And took a little breather.

Little do these experts know
They have a sickness; it's incurable,
Toxic Credential Syndrome
Rarely, is insurable,
It's a chronic, life disorder
Of self-substantiation,
Seeking after-name initials
That defy interpretation.

After days of in-depth study
And cryptogram decoding,
I almost had the cypher, but
I felt my mind eroding,
The breakthrough came, when I was sitting
Upon the holy throne,
While bearing down, I visualized
A new Rosetta stone.

My interpretations
Are that and nothing more,
Other scholars may follow me
But I warn them, it's a chore,
Fellow collaborators
Have chosen to stay unnamed,
I understand their reluctance
The risk of being blamed.

I may become notorious
Denounced, more likely banned,
But I have my convictions
And have to take a stand,
The TCS condition
Is a threat to any nurse,
Should this research halt their suffering
I will gladly bear the curse.

Fibril_late; 12/95

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Remember when we all laughed about that silly "Valley Girl" song, by Frank Zappa. It was filled with all those juvenile forms of speech such as:
Like, He's like, I'm like,……
As if
Ya know
Totally Rad
Oh my God……

Now our whole flippin' society talks in this manner. The problem I see, is that when professionals speak this way, it makes them at best, appear poorly educated and at worst, just blathering idiots. So, there I was at some ACLS course and the physician instructor kept saying, "If you will" with a smattering of "ya know's" thrown in (like, every sentence, and it was not even, totally, like rad). Word.

Listen Carefully To Speech

"If you will", please let me clarify
A point of worthy status,
"If you will", I'm very tired
Of catchy phrase-like flatus,
"If you will", is touted daily
From the mouths of modern man,
"If you will", is like, I mean, ya know
Over and over again.

If this is too confusing
Listen carefully to speech,
Repetitive terms, like um, it's all
Are enough to make you screech,
The continual daily bombardment
Of sloppy vocal expression,
May undermine the professional
Leaving a less than desirable impression.

Fibril_late; 12/95

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

More about cost-cutting and budget cuts.

A Dangerous Method of Efficiency

Casting caution to the wind
Making budget cuts galore,
It's a dangerous method of efficiency
Kicking your people out the door.

Our industry needs to be streamlined
With careful consideration and pride,
Unlike the methods you see today
Which is technically suicide.

Fibril_late; 12/95

Monday, March 19, 2007

Some thoughts about the final destination: Death.

What it Means To Die

I sought a definition
Of what it means to die,
I asked for a description
And then I pleaded, why,
A man might suffer needlessly
While his life-force slowly drains,
A victim of this system
And our God-almighty brains,
How we can define atomic physics
Or support the gasping breath,
Yet we shudder when we're faced
With the choice of life or death.

Afterlife, what's after death
What goes on beyond the after breath,
It is a question, understood by few
While even less, know what to do,
In a world of increasing technicality
We grapple with our ultimate finality,
Exactly where this road may lead us next
Can not be found in any medical text.

We seek a lot of answers
To define our own morality,
When at the bottom of it all
We fear our own mortality.

Fibril_late; 12/95

Friday, March 09, 2007

Who would think 12 years ago, that we'd now be viewing a television reality-show, covering the life and slices of a young, rich, Beverly Hills Plastic surgeon (and all the customized men and women plopping down the big bux for a new shape or look)?!?

My Belly Button

I am currently recovering;
I had my belly-button moved,
I never liked the way
It puckered and it grooved,
I began to think about
The way my ears are tweaked,
And how I hate my natural nose
Because it's sort of beaked.

I called the Plastic Surgeon
And he offered me a deal,
So the next time that you see me
I'll have some sex appeal;
Isn't it great, we have the chance
To change the way we appear,
Because life would be so boring
If we looked the same each year.

Fibril_late; 12/95

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Probably once a year, there would be a family so dysfunctional, screwed up, and angry, they would literally be fighting over the estate of the poor fellow who was at the precipice of his journey into the afterlife. It was so disheartening to see such consummate selfishness at play. Thus begat,

The Family

A dying patient's family, can
Do more harm than good, I assure you man,
While contesting the contents of his will
They're hovering closer for the kill,
They may be harboring hidden guilt
About the time the milk was spilt,
Then clutch at every thread of life
And claim it's for his loving wife,
When life support, becomes death denial
He feel like he's been put on trial,
He wonders what his crime must be -
The poor fool had a family!

Fibril_late; 12/95

Monday, March 05, 2007

Another trip to the Dentist. Everybody got excited when they thought I was having angina; me, I was awakened out of a reverie, dreaming about the dental assistant.

Mondo Pick

I gazed upon, your lithe and limber
While the novacaine was spreading,
Under your hypnotic gaze
I almost started shedding.

Your ever smiling sidekick
With her subtle perfumed pose,
Calibrated instruments
While I began to doze.

Is a I dreamed a tale of triplicate
My arm began to ache,
I wondered, "Is it Memorex"
Or is this feeling fake,
The dental crew began to play
A game of different rules,
They checked my mouth for hardware
Or any missing tools,
Perhaps a stainless Mondo pick
Was lodged behind a filling,
The office girls placed wagers
While I tossed in a shilling.

It all worked out, without a glitch
My Dentist has it down,
She liberated my decay
And left me with a crown.


Sunday, March 04, 2007

Whoa; I lost a whole week in illness. Felt like I picked up one of those virulent strains and deposited it into my lungs, to see how tough I was. Not tough enough!

So, back to the chronicles of the underside. Here is a tale about a coworker making the transition, following a promotion to a position of higher authority. Kings are not made in a day.

A New Title

You once were a friend
A comrade at work,
You earned a promotion
And now you're a jerk,
Afraid to lost control
Of your acquired dominion,
A perfectionist at heart
You don't want an opinion.

We continue to be equals
No, you're not our God,
Your power of office
Is just a fa├žade,
A couple more initials
Written after your name,
You have to read the rules
If you want to play the game.

Rule number one, is
"Little has changed",
You get a new title
Yes, that was arranged,
You henceforth are known as
An Assistant Head Nurse,
It's up to you to make it
A blessing or a curse.

Rule number two, is
"Remember your roots",
Your fellow staff-nurses
Are not the dust off your boots,
We're equals, remember
On whom you depend,
Treat us like dirt
And that will soon end.

Rule number three, is
"Be a student of history",
To become a great leader
Is no longer a mystery,
Practice fairness and respect
You will earn it in return,
Or be a control freak
And watch it all burn.

Fibril_late; 10/95