Watermark

Confession

What do you bring to the confessional?
Wasted hours; a kind thing undone,
and another, and another; or some
singular crime, a thought or deed
that left a wound, some innocent
bereft of confidence and cheer?
Have you taken what was not yours
to keep; kissed one not yours to claim?
Or is it deeper, darker than these?
Did you see your path was cold
and steep, so turn an easier way?
Have you scoured your heart of love,
set it to harden in a kiln of rage?
Drop it on the tiles, then. Let it break.

   

Been to an Emergency Room lately?

Perhaps, like me, you live in a town, rather than a city or poor rural area, and assume that things are like they used to be at your local emergency hospital. That's what I assumed, if I thought about it at all. Five hours in the emergency room with a friend (she's fine now) has cleared up that misconception.

I shot that sign, above, during our wait. The sign says -- for those who can't see the image --

Thank you for your patience. The Emergency Department is experiencing unusually high patient volumes. This is causing delays.

It certainly is. 

For the entire time, I kept hoping, not only that my friend would be seen soon, but that the man across from us, his hand held up and wrapped in ice, had at least been given something for pain. Something more than ice.

I asked: Why? Why are you seeing so many more patients?

Because, I was told, so many more people are without insurance, and have nowhere else to go.

Do you think health care reform is irrelevant to your life?

If so, you are mistaken.

[By the way, the 911 folks were wonderful. What a great job!

And what do you do? 

Oh, I save lives.]