Nursing is hazardous work. Every year, you hear from someone, "Did you hear that so and so died. Yup, got shot by a patient." One time I was kicked in the head by a berserker, and suffered a concussion. Patients get sick, and then crazy, and you never know what will happen next. Back in the day, it wasn't like that.

In Days Long Gone

In days long gone
Of innocent youth,
You could go to a Doctor
To get at the truth,
Because disease back then
Was fairly simple,
Unwanted babies
Or maybe a pimple,
A week in the hospital
Would do the trick,
If you didn't die
You weren't really sick,
Because medicine men
Didn't have many drugs,
No antibiotics
For bacterial bugs,
Just common sense
Like fluid and rest,
Surgical wounds
Were debrided and dressed,
Life support measures
Not yet invented,
Many more sinners
Took stock and repented.

But today, man, it's different
This hospital scene,
Each organ system
Has a machine;
Any mechanic can tell you
This carries a price,
It's Russian roulette
With a medical device.

Central line catheters
A bacterial threat,
Ground fault dysrhythmias
If a pacer gets wet,
Gastric perforation
From sump pumping hoses,
After long-term use
They'll have a nasal necrosis,
Tracheal malacia
And traumatic intubation,
Will lead to a permanent
Horse voiced oration,
Tympanic rupture
From a doppler detonation,
Uremic poisoning
From bladder ablation,
And that's just the patients
But, what about the nurse,
Each day at the job
Is surely a curse.

Consider the dangerous
Equipment itself,
Monitor boxes
That fall off the shelf,
Land on your head
Bruising your brain,
There's no medication
For this kind of pain,
Suspended televisions
That swing in an arc,
Causing serious damage
At night, in the dark,
Colonic disasters
From overfilled pans,
Body fluid exposure
On your clothes and your hands,
Broken thermometers
With mercurial spills,
Inhaling poisonous dust
From all those crushed pills,
Exposure to X-rays
That zoom through the walls,
Effectively neutering
Ovaries and balls.

Good god, it's a nightmare
There is nowhere to hide,
But who keeps statistics
On the nurses that died,
In the course of their work
By their choice of career,
They silently vanish
Year after year,
As their spirits race homeward
At the crack of each dawn,
The days of their innocent youth
Are long gone.

Fibril_late; 1997