Sunday, September 18, 2016

Non-Compliant Croatian

Hypertension: It is so hard to convince folks the importance of taking their meds, and to talk to their doctor, if they would like to stop. No, the wrong way is usually the chosen way; just stop taking your pills because you feel funny, or maybe your BP is under control and you think the problem has gone away. Whatever; there is a life-threatening crisis hovering on the event horizon.

Once upon a time, two people stopped taking their meds. One thought she was cured by Jesus, the other didn't like the way the pills made her feel. The first one blew out her Aorta, the 2nd one had a massive M.I.

Risky business, that's what it is.

Stopped her medication,
She said, "My pressure is fine"
A major violation,
With malignant hypertension
Obesity and heart disease,
Her aorta is ripping
Her family prays, Jesus please!

When she needed bypass surgery
Jesus found her the doctor,
With Pulmonary emboli?
Jesus was the Proctor,
And by golly, I'm thinking
Jesus blessed her medications,
Then the Devil, slyly told her
"You don't need meds, you're Croatian!"

One week ago she stopped
Taking any of her pills,
She must have figured that Jesus
Had cured all of her ills,
That her blood pressure was fine
When she took a walk this morning,
But her pressure was sky high
Her Aorta ripped without warning.

Now Jesus is standing
Over there, in the corner,
Nibbling his pie
Like little Jack Horner,
Pondering the failings
Of this member of his flock,
This non-compliant Croatian
May have taken her last walk.


Friday, September 16, 2016

Street Racing Remains

Young Jake revs
The engine with pride,
Hot burping exhaust
Let's go for a ride,
And do a little racing
At the stoplight on 2nd,
Fate and the Grim Reaper;
They must have beckoned.

From zero to sixty
And sixty to zero,
Don't get out of your car
You're not a hero,
No need to brag
That you were the one,
Racing down Broadway
Boys doing fun.

Now, maybe your Lambo
Does an easy one-eighty,
And you've got your eye on
Some sexy young lady,
You're trying to impress
With bravado, not brains,
While the audience expects
Your bloody remains,
Spread on the pavement
The tree and the wall,
As that pretty young woman
Stands poised with a shawl,
To cover your splatter
And sob at your wake,
Just boys having fun
Then it's over, young Jake.

Yes, everyone loves
A spectacular crash,
That's why we crave speed
Blowing smoke, acting brash,
But we like it best
With the front row view,
We were close to the edge
But it happened to you.

Talking in my sleep

I work odd hours now; from midnight to 0600. One of the ways I stay awake during the drive home, is to dictate stream of consciousness rhyming into a voice recorder. I have been using the method for years with great success. There I'll be sitting in traffic having a lovely conversation with myself.

Hammer Head

Just in case
I get inspired,
Even tho
I'm kind of tired,
On this 20 minute
Drive back home,
I'm often inspired
To dictate a poem.

Assembling words
As thoughts drop in,
Whispering tales
Of misery and sin,
Stories that are filled with
Disease and discord,
And all of those things
That people afford.

Stuff that is healthy
More, that is not,
Eventually discovering
Their body is shot,
And at the end of it all
They pull into the marina,
Singing songs of misery
Like a spotted hyena.

They want food in their belly
And drugs for their pain,
Warm blankets and tea
And a hot nurse from Spain,
We do our best
To bring you back from the dead,
But don't grab at Betty
Cuz she'll hammer your head

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Pass the Test

I have been an Instructor and tutor of basic EKG / Cardiac Monitoring for 13 years. Our classes comprise quite a cross section of students. There are Nurses, some fresh and some having worked a number of years already, plus EMT / Paramedic students. Occasionally we have non-medical persons that work in some other hospital department, thinking of attending Nursing school, or considering being a Monitor Technician. Every year we have about 400 attendees, and a very high success rate. The class provides the student with a certificate of Basic Cardiac Monitoring, which may be a requirement at their job.
Most important, as simple and basic that it might appear on the surface, this class is not easy.

Pass the Test

Didn't pass the test?
You thought it was, too simple,
You gave it less attention
Than a recent forehead pimple,
Or maybe, you got busy
Then fell back to reason 1,
You thought this class was easy
Until your test was done.

Blame it on your study habits
Or blame it on the devil,
But this time, do your duties
If you wish to pass this level,
Then return again next week
You must repeat the test,
Don't squander your last chance
Just do your very best.
--  --  --  --  --  --  --

Here is a link to the programs offered:

Sunday, September 11, 2016

A Bad Batch of Heroin

The poem tells the story, the news outlets write the nonsense.

A "bad batch of Heroin"
What a description,
"The overdoses have victimized men and women of all ages"
That is the depiction,
But I contend, they victimized themselves
Choosing Heroin, over what is good,
All heroin is bad
Let's label it, as we should.

Journalists and News outlets
Please do not pander to these kind of terms,
Heroin is heroin
No matter how many worms,
Have been used to dilute
Or to up-tox the solution,
There is no "good" heroin
Just as Coke and Meth, are deadly pollution.

We heard about this two years ago
The "bad heroin" that was killing folks,
Last year it was the disguised Fentanyl
Drug dealers, love these kind of jokes,
Although, killing off the users
Normally, would be a poor business model,
Maybe, they ought to shift the delivery mechanism
And brew it for the bottle.

Regarding the recent explosion
Of breweries, all over the land,
Why not slip a little bit of heroin
Into that ice-cold aluminum can?
Just like the legalization of marijuana
Why not blend heroin into that mix,
Just name it Red Dog Explosion
And sell it for a buck sixty six,
Pass the sales tax along to the bean counters
They won't bother to ask why,
No one will say that heroin is bad
When the money rolls in, by the by.

A "bad batch of Heroin"
What a great story,
Let's tax all that stuff
And sing Morning Glory,
Down at Reverend Joe's church
On April eleven,
Consumers will be so happy
They will think they're in heaven.


Friday, September 09, 2016

Self Harm

The next poem might seem
Depressing and mean,
But I can't deny
All the things that I've seen,
Over and over
On a daily basis,
The human miserable condition
Is often in stasis.

I'm not talking about
Birth defects,
Nor discussing
Society rejects,
I'm merely posing
Personal choices,
Meth, coke and smack
Not Ferrari Rolls-Royces.

Nobody force fed
The addicted user,
He looks in the mirror
And sees his accuser,
Now we paste together
The shreds of bad health,
Wasting the resources
Of our society wealth.

The typical user
Started young, immature,
Regarding any repercussions
Abstract thinking, obscure,
Just fun for the moment
They'd never bite the hook,
Instead, they become a subject
In the drug abuse book.

Yes, we're patching them up
Over and again,
This 37 year old amputee
Reminisces about when,
He was young, strong and sexy
A babe on each arm,
Now, his life is pure misery
From his own self-harm.

Every Day Occurence

Life sure was easier when all we had were Alcohol and Heroin abusers.


Losing my foot
After fingers and toes,
I put too much Cocaine
Up my nose,
Then I moved on
To crystal Meth,
Now I'm flirting
With sister Death.

Another thing
My kidney's are shot,
I get hemodialysis
Piping hot,
My mouth is full of Herpes
I know it looks bad,
But this is my life
So don't feel sad.

I would gladly do it all
Over again,
Nothing feels so good
As Meth in a pen,
Shooting up my veins
Until they were all gone,
Then having a seizure
On Billy-Bobs lawn.

I'm a regular visitor
At your medical center,
I've got Medi-cal
So, I'm a destitute renter,
Sucking up resources
I'm unrepairable,
And I do my best
To be unbearable.

Spit at my nurses
Call them bad names,
Those are a couple
Of my favorite games,
Crap in my bed
And smear it on the rails,
Scratch Betty Lou
It's under my nails.
Act like a maniac
What else can I do?
I did this to myself
And I hate you.

I will survive
And go back to my hole,
I'll return in a month
Because that's my role,
After snorting some Meth
With ketoacidosis,
In complete Liver failure
My new diagnosis.


Thursday, September 08, 2016

That Rhythm Again

If you read this blog, you might think that I am an officer of the KGB Rhythm Analysis group, always spying and prying into the lives of those who mis-label ECG rhythm strips. The truth is out there; this is my crusade!

That rhythm again
Fools them every time,
Prompting me
To write this rhyme,
Regarding Atrial Flutter
And Atrial Tach,
Those ectopic impulses
Doubling back,
Fooling the reader
Of the EKG’s,
They think it is Sinus
If they don’t count the P’s.

That rhythm again
Improperly read,
I told Betty Lou
But she wrote Sinus, instead,
So she didn’t tell the doctor
But what can I do?
I’m just the break-nurse
Sharing an expert view.

That rhythm again
Everybody should know it,
With proper treatment
We hope to slow it,
But that won’t happen
If it isn’t read right,
As it happened again
Just the other night.