The Blade

 
I meant to do a write-up four years ago when I attended Workplace Violence Training. The first time I went to the class I arrived 20 minutes late because I couldn't find the education building. The instructors actually had the door locked and they told me I would have to reschedule even though at the time, they were merely yacking it up with the class. I couldn't attend until three weeks later, because I was working night shift and it wasn't very convenient.

Workplace Violence Prevention and Awareness
Of course it's important, doubled down and in fairness,
But to force it upon us, a requirement every year?
They won't offer a refresher; it's a do over, I fear.

The first time I went I couldn't find the school
I arrived twenty minutes late
They said, "You're out of here, fool",
Which nearly brought me to violence
But it wasn't the best time,
If I pounded the instructor
And reduced him to slime.

The second time I went
I behaved the best that I could,
Now that's not saying much
I'm like a piece of bent wood,
Making silly jokes
And talking out of turn,
But when all is said and done
There's always something that I learn.

It was a coed class
So I needed a fun partner,
Little did she know
I act like a kindergartner, 
With a bunch of silly nonsense
But I think she even giggled,
While she was choking me out
While I gasped and wiggled.

On the next exercise
I pretend I have a knife,
Imagine that I’m stalking
Number one wife,
My partner took a stance
That the Instructor’s called ”The Blade”,
Dodging my advances
And then she hit me with a spade,
I guess it was in the closet
With the gardening tools,
And like that first wife of mine
She wouldn’t suffer fools.

Yearly workplace training
Well, at least we get paid,
And I learned a new dance
Which they call the Blade.

Leg Mixup

History repeats itself everywhere and in the field of medicine too. In 1995 I wrote a poem that was inspired by those unfortunate persons who had a wrong-side amputation of a limb or a kidney. Just last week I read about it again somewhere in Europe. In the recent event the marking of the surgical site had been incorrect and unfortunately, the individual was then forced to have the "correct" surgery performed a couple days later because of advanced vascular disease. 

Leg Mixup

They cut my wrong leg off, oops
Well I guess I won't be shooting hoops,
And there was a mix-up with my right hand
But they explained it pretty good and I understand,
That sometimes mistakes are made
In the best of situations,
I really ought to be glad
There were no post-op complications.

My wife said I need to sue them
But I said no, I think they tried their best,
They performed the operation
At my behest,
So even I share 
Some of the responsibility
And my mother always told me
Be kind and use civility.

2021
- - - - - - -- - -
Undefined Compensation

Amputated the wrong leg
Cut off the wrong breast,
If life is lesson
Then this is a test,
We'll proceed with forgiveness
As we march to the court,
They took off the good parts
And now they're selling us short.

Removed the wrong hand
Took out the wrong eye,
You might call this living
But we want to die,
We'll proceed with forgiveness
But these doctors must pay,
They took off the good parts
And that's not okay.

Each side will gather lawyers
And medical scholars,
To define compensation
In a matter of dollars,
But you can't say we're happy
With the settlement planned,
It's tough to applause
When you don't have a hand.

1995

Agents of Chaos

 

This is an epic poem regarding the chaos of confusion that sometimes overwhelms patient's in the hospital in the midst of their illness. Nurses are the safety net and in the midst of providing that critical protection, they often brainstorm with their companions to come up with a safe solution, that will hopefully defuse the moment of delirium. 

Agents of Chaos

The unforeseen consequences
Of unraveling spirals,
I am telling you it's more than
Bacterial virals,
When your patient gets up
And whirls like a dervish,
It's crazy, whacked out
And makes me totally nervish.
 
Kate was with me that morning
And so was Ms. B,
When way over yonder
In room 893,
Mr. Whatzit got up
Spun in circles and cables,
Wound up like a top
In old Aesop's Fables.
 
He killed six with one blow
He fired mortars over the wall,
And our biggest concern
Was that he would fall,
Because his left-arm was missing
And his right-brain was bonkers,
And I'd heard some big lawyer
Was driving up from New Yonkers.

The worst of our fears
Like whirling twisters,
Bosses from the big house
Were developing blisters,
From the tickets they'd written
Regarding the fouls of this case,
What a collective embarrassment
On the corporate face.

Our careers were on the line
Our licenses in peril,
This whirling dervish
Had us over a barrel,
And collectively we three
Had a hundred years of knowing,
Cyclonic phenomenon
Like an ill wind were blowing.
 
We gathered our thoughts
And pondered each option,
We knew if we failed
We'd be up for adoption,
Three orphans of nursing
Tossed out with the trash,
When suddenly, Kate
Had a powerful flash,
Of woman's intuition and
Her Feng Shui power,
She said, this agent of chaos
Needs a bath or a shower.
 
Ms. B gathered towels
While I warmed the water,
We all prayed to Gaea
And Chaos, her daughter,
To reveal to us the means
To find peace amidst fury,
Then we soaped up our washcloths
And bathed in a hurry.
 
The spirals unraveled
The twisters tore down,
The cyclones collapsed
Into fairytale town,
While the bystanders cheered
And authorities arrived,
Ms. B, Kate and I
Well, we just high-fived!

Heroes of Nursing
They called us that day,
Be we all knew better
With a smirk, as if to say,
Our backs will be stabbed
Before the sun goes down,
Because heroes are orphans
In fairytale town.