Sunday, January 22, 2017

Phones: I See You

No commentary required.

Phones: I See You

I went into the ICU;
Five nurses sat
With smartphone view,
Movie watching
Texting and games,
Would they notice
Smoke and flames?

Sure, times have changed
But I have not,
I remember what
Instructors taught,
While on the job
Please pay attention,
Reduce distractions
Honorable mention,
Spare time? study
Expand your knowledge,
Especially if
You're not in college.

In the courtroom
There is a no-phone rule,
If the Judge should catch you
Contempt, you fool!
Why don't our hospitals
Enforce, the same,
I don't know why
But it's a losers game.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Cumin Kindness

Not all health-care entities blast their branding, all over the USA, but some do. It's a little embarrassing to the employees, but what can we do? Actually, we're supposed to following our leaders, and spout the slogans too.

Anyway, Curry Bob's Taxi Service, has apparently jumped on the advertising bus too; take a look.

Cumin Kindness

At Curry Bob's Taxi
They have a new motto,
Hello Cumin Kindness
Is displayed on every auto,
We care about you
And every living being,
They spend a fortune on ads
It's all the public is seeing.

The taxi's are plush
With fake mohair velour,
It hides the dirt and debris
For the duration of your tour,
And don't even bother
To ask about pricing,
If we ever told you
It would not be enticing.

There is a passenger mini-bar
Just enter the code,
Fresh Turkey sandwiches
And pie a la mode,
With a 3-day expiration
Preservative enhanced,
Like our cutting edge attention
We are truly advanced.

No matter, your destination
You will get there, guaranteed,
For the satisfied customer
We have everything you need,
But, please fill out the survey
And give us some praise,
Hello Cumin Kindness
To the end of your days.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

News Under Pressure

Lately, there has been an uproar in the news, regarding "Fake News". I am of the opinion, that ya can't trust anything on TV or the Internet, unless you dig deep. You must know where to look.
But I think there is a bigger issue at hand; news that is held back, all together. When major industries spout platitudes about how "transparent" they are, the very fact that they are bragging about, is usually an indicator, that they have been lying for years!......and will continue to do so.
How does Diggity
Squash the stories in the press?
Not a peep is ever written
Regarding any mess,
Now, if there is a chance for bragging
Then, we're all over the papers,
But write articles
About problems?
You must be sniffing the vapors

'Twas like a rainstorm at midnight
In Mother's caboose,
When those pipes in the ceiling
Finally broke loose,
Back in 2013
When the sprinkler system busted,
You know, old infrastructure
It just can not be trusted.

Little catch-all pans
Trying to corral every drip,
When it all busted loose
They had to abandon ship,
Water leaking down
To the Pharmacy floor,
Shouldn't the public know this?
Bad news, is locked behind a door.

And did that ever make the papers?
Why, certainly not,
Money must have crossed palms
On a story that hot,
Or how about the time
With the new ATM,
Was it stolen by us?
No, it was taken by them,
Right there in the lobby
Two men with a dolly,
A couple boys showing off
For their Aunt Polly.

Serial thieves
A family, one might say,
Although, no one was arrested
Now that's a Payday!


Thursday, January 12, 2017

Dental Dana 56

Dental Dana is still driving me crazy!

Dental Dana
Performs such magic,
Still, every appointment
Seems to turn out tragic,
I have wondered about that
And here's what I think,
I always seem to say something
That raises a stink.

She is always
So sweet and kind,
I must be stupid
And completely blind,
Well, apparently not
As I'm always trying to touch,
Some part of her
That I like very much.

Still, she has such patience
And magnificent poise,
She gets me to behave
With very little noise,
With a sensitive jab
Of her green-Laser pen,
Which seems to work very well
On rambunctious men.

Denial and Death

The holidays are over, so I can write a depressing story. Yes, of course it's true (with a few embellishments), and took a month for me to regurgitate.

Denial and Death

The Christmas Holiday season
Is such a special time of the year,
This is where good old Uncle Bob
Will play out his dying fear,
He has a history of heart failure
And has angina every day,
Now he's faced with Christmas dinner
Fat, salt and sugar heading his way.

He's a tough old Russian Teamster
He could pull a tractor with his teeth,
But now his chest hurts a little
He's short of breath, just hanging the wreath,
Mamma says, Daddy, your face is purple
He replies, Don't worry, it's kinda cold out,
Whispering silently to himself
No reason to scream and shout.

A silent M.I, in action
Myocardial damage, during dinner,
Everybody joking about how
Uncle Bob, used to be thinner,
Then, in the family room, later
A rousing toast to a wonderful life,
Everybody bragging
About great kids and the good wife;

Then suddenly,
Down goes Uncle Bob,
And ten year old Joey
Does a miraculous job,
Performing Cub Scout CPR,
Until the Paramedics arrive
In their siren-shrieking car.

Three days later
It's a forgone conclusion,
That Uncle Bobs brain
Has undergone fusion,
Of white matter
Sulci and neurons,
About as dense as the muck
At the bottom of Lake Huron.

But that's not what his wife sees
When Uncle Bob wiggles and twitches,
It reminds her of those times
When he stumbled into the ditches,
Out on the steppes of old Russia
Drinking potato whiskey,
She sheds a nostalgic tear
Back then, he was so frisky.

This is the new world
Sorrowful last fable,
Where no medical options
Are left on the table,
Leaving old fashioned hope
Amidst old time religion,
Sending desperate prayers to Jesus
Strapped to a messenger pigeon.

We do our best
To provide logic with sensitivity,
While this family prays Psalms
Focusing on Nativity,
A miraculous rebirth
For Uncle Bob, in all His Glory,
And as the weeks drag on
Hubby, becomes a laboratory;
Bacteria, of virulent strains
Take over in his G.I. tract,
Like a festering Petri dish
Drug resistance, in fact.

Rotting away
Such an uncouth term,
Especially the morning
When a festive brain worm,
Was seen escaping
Uncle Bob's Left ear,
Erupting suddenly
With a burst of cheer,
Singing, "Oh, we're having a party
Up in Uncle Bob's brain,
Giggling insanely
Repeating the refrain.

Finally, a consensus
Uncle Bob, can be a DNR,
But no, not Comfort Care
That would be going too far,
Thus, another month drags on
While, this body decays,
A desperate, trapped soul
Silently screaming for 100 days.

Until he died.

A pigeon pooped on Mamma's car that day
A message from Uncle, as if to say:

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Take a Break

Doing Break-Relief Nurse for nine months now, and my satisfaction score is pretty high; here are some of the reasons.

Break-relief nurse
There’s a lot to like,
Nearly as simple as
Riding a bike,
After competing for years
In the Tour de France,
Having earned the right
To wear the jersey and pants.

Take your break, Nurse
What do you need me to do?
Start an IV
On old Betty Lou,
Carry tubes to the Lab
Then, hang some plasma,
Titrate the Levophed
And monitor Bob’s asthma.

Set up a room
For that overdosed giant,
Keep an eye on his restraints
He’s completely non-compliant,
Assist with 3 bed-baths
On the super-sized folks,
While gasping for air
And still telling jokes.

Answer the call-lights
Attend to machines,
Troubleshoot problems
Without making a scene,
Offer suggestions
Be a team player,
Ready to offer a hand
To the dragon-slayer.

A six hour shift?
Now, that’s a relief,
Don’t have to deal with
All that charting grief,
But I must read the notes
‘Cuz, each patient is a mystery,
Please, don’t be offended
If I know more about their history.

There are a couple things
That I can’t do,
Continuous Renal therapy
That’s up to you,
If there’s a Code or a crisis
Or say, a new Open-Heart,
I’ll be your assistant
I play the little part;
Then, we’ll get stuff done
More efficient and speedy,
Don’t worry about me
I’m not the least bit needy.

When I leave at Six
Finally, I take a break,
Silently, I depart
Having earned a piece of cake.

Thursday, January 05, 2017


I may seem like the grumpy old Expert curmudgeon at times, but that's what you expect from old people, right? We elder nurses who care, find satisfaction in sharing with younger generations; those Great Nurses who will follow in our footsteps. That doesn't mean I think I'm some kind of superior nurse; it only means I'm a veteran, rabble-rousing individual that expects perfection, or the closest thing to it.


It may look like
I am picking on a younger generation,
Of new nurses practicing
In our good old federation,
But, don't take me wrong
I seek the best of practice in our profession,
I like to mentor........
Just step in and make your confession.

Sure, things have changed
No doubt about it,
Thank goodness for change
I'll be the first to shout it,
No more confusion now
When doctor's write orders,
I don't have to decipher handwriting
And scribbles on the borders.

Change, ushers in new ideas
Along with new situations,
That we didn't encounter before
Thus, more regulations,
Where, some will try to find
Workarounds and shortcuts,
That is all good and well
But makes Administrators go nuts.

This is hacking in its purest sense
Like the automotive pioneers in 1910,
Where many of us dream about
Those silly days way back when,
Your great-grandmother, worried
About great changes in her world,
And here we are, one hundred years later
Having our genetic code curled,
Down at the Salon
While choosing our next baby,
The current generation of new Nurses
Is always poised to say, "Well, maybe".

Wednesday, January 04, 2017

No more sounds of silence

Smartphones are now ubiquitous in every hospital in America (probably everywhere else, too). With over 500,000 phone applications already available, and many of them being useful in the practice of  medicine, these babies are not going away. As their technical prowess increases with every new generation of operating system, human behaviors are going off the rails, in terms of phone abuse. The careless habits of "professional" phone users (and the inability of Hospitals to enforce rules), place our patients and their families at risk.

When an employee is on break, go for it dude, whip out the phone and be entertained! Just stop doing it when your attention should be on your patient in Room X, Y & Z.

Earplug Attention

Earplug attention
Dude is unaware,
He deserves a notorious mention
Because his patient slipped out of the chair,
His mind is on his music
A mantra and a movie,
The patient had a cardiac arrest
He didn’t notice, ain’t that groovy?

Smartphone distractions
In the midst of Intensive Care,
If this one be your nurse
It’s like playing double-dare,
With his earpiece blocking sound
Your survival is in doubt,
I have noticed he’s doesn’t hear
I practically have to shout.

Smartphone abuse is out of control
In two thousand seventeen,
You can call me Mr. Grumpy Nurse
And say I’m being mean,
But with thirty years experience
I know listening, is a specialized skill,
If you don’t hear what goes on around you
You’re not worth a two dollar bill.

Monday, January 02, 2017

Chip in the Head

She talked of this incessantly, "there's a chip in my Head". According to this delusional person, it was placed in her head when she was two years old, down in South Carolina. Well, that was 50 years ago, and there were no chips, other than potato chips, (which is what is in my head, I think).

I tried some internet research on the topic because it sounds like something right out of L. Ron Hubbard, a lesser known science fiction writer. And considering the wacky ways of his legacy (Scientology), I don't doubt for a minute, that he had several in his head.

She has a chip in her head
That’s what she claimed,
They’re trying to kill me
They abused me, I’m shamed,
It happened
When I was a baby, she said,
And ever since then
They have wanted me dead.

An “accidental” overdose
Not intentional, says her daughter,
But this was number five
So, let’s call it MySlaughter,
Trying to end her life
And that demon in her head,
A self-fulfilling prophecy
After all, they want her dead.


Certain topics, are covered often because they are so visceral in their presentation. And honestly, each time it's old and yet reveals some unique nuance that I just have to cover. But first, I cover my clothing and my nose.

Covered in stool
It never is pretty,
Back, butt, arms and legs
It's downright shitty,
At first look, it overwhelms
"How can I possibly clean, that?"
Run to the linen cart
Grab a bunch of towels
Call the cleanup crew, STAT!

Take a careful moment to notice
Is it flowing off the bed?
That detail is so important
So you don't slip and slide onto your head,
If it's on the floor, get some shoe covers
So the crap doesn't walk home with you,
Although it doesn't smell as bad
It is way worse than dog poo.

Now, I was unsure what to do
So I consulted my weegee,
It spelled out, forty wash-cloths
And a high-pressure squeegee,
Yes, that did the trick
BB, was slick as a whistle;
Just another chapter
In the crapola epistle.

Sunday, January 01, 2017


First poem of 2017:

I don't like trauma
I'll tell you why,
All those broken bones
They make me cry,
The busted heads
With swelling brains,
And a myriad
Of other pains.

A lot of trauma victims
Have drug-seeking behavior,
And they are expecting me
To be their savior,
But I am not
That kind of guy,
I can say, No
And let them cry.

Half of these folks
Did stupid crap,
Like spilling hot coffee
Into their lap,
While driving
Their brand new Maserati,
And looking out the window
At some teenage hottie.

Swerved, they did
Into a giant Oak,
Blew up that Maserati
And that's no joke,
Two hundred and fifty
Flying pieces,
Including Billy Bob
And his two nieces,
Going off in
Different directions,
Seat belts still on
But no other protections.

Where once were three
There now is one,
Put back together
With a hot glue gun,
A hodgepodge collection
Of many pieces,
Something from Billy Bob
And both of his nieces.

A Frankenstein creature
An amalgam of parts,
One head, two arms
And three beating hearts,
The rest is a mix
Of tissue and bones,
And inside the head
Two, iPhones.

We call him BillyBobinator
The first hybrid man,
Kind of weird looking
But that was the plan,
When the trauma surgeons
Looked at that box of parts,
Retrieved from the accident
In fits and starts.

He has a little girl's voice
He got that from Trixie,
She was the cutest thing
Looked just like a pixie,
Her sister Madeline
Was a gymnast extraordinaire,
Now, BillyBobinator
Keeps flipping into the air.

He's a handful
That's for sure,
But we're a Trauma Unit
With a guaranteed cure,
Where everyone leaves
Sooner or later,
Including this hybrid