Minutes and a Million Things


As I have not blogged in awhile, the writing challenge seemed like a good way to get back into it.

Here is something republished, an attempt to re-spark my inspiration. 



I stand in front of you

With a million other things on my mind

You hold the pill in your hand

I wait for you to lift it up

And please, please swallow it.

I hear down the hall an IV alarm sounding

Going off again

I know that the patient across the hall

Soon will be wanting pain medicine.

I’m sure the patient two doors down

Has died

Did I see her today?

I look at the clock

And panic.

Your hand is shaking as you lift it up

I think hurry, hurry, hurry


(I care, you understand, but I have those million things)

You lift it up and into your mouth

I hold the cup and you swallow


My name is paged

I have a call

(and oh, I  think, I hope the other one didn’t fall)

Then I realize

You are looking at me

“Thank you so much”

you say

“You have been so good to me”

And then I remember

I hope,


What it is all about

So I sit

(On the edge of the bed like I’m not supposed to do)

Hold your hand

And say

“Oh, no,

Thank YOU.”


Love and Hate-a Nurse’s List



A list, as inspired by the writing challenge

I love:

Holding your hand as you are afraid and feeling you become calm
Explaining to you what the Doctor said in simpler terms
Listening to your lungs and realizing that your pneumonia is getting better
Giving you a cup of water when you are thirsty
Helping you take a shower when you haven’t taken one in days
Noticing when you are getting worse and ‘pulling’ you back from the brink
Talking to you about your surgery and answering your questions
Having the time to hear about your family
Making your pain more manageable
Making you laugh
Sending you home!


I hate:

Short staffing and call-ins
Seeing you cry
Watching you in pain
Watching your family cry
Dementia induced paranoia
Hospital acquired psychosis
Having to use Haldol and restraints (as related to the above)
What smoking does to your lungs and how you can’t breath
Staff conflicts
Seeing you come back-when you wish you could just be home.




I walk past

And in a moment

I see

Two worlds apart

At the same time.

You are crying,

He is laughing,

You cannot see each other

But I can see

Both of you.

How are you?

To one


“Great! how are you?”

To the other,

“I’ve had better days.”

Your world ending,




The life of one you loved


His world beginning,

A life with one he loves,



So here I stand

With Kleenex and tears

To one


Smiles and laughter

To another

And I marvel

At the greatness of

The  Omnipresent,

The Omnipotent,

All Knowing,

Savior of the World

To gives to all






To meet

Each need

While knowing

And seeing

Worlds apart

At the same time.




Thou God seest me…Genesis 16:13

The Decision


They met outside of the café. The sun was warm and the street was quiet.

He held out her chair and she sat. The metal seat felt cool through her summer skirt.

He sat across from her as the waiter came. They both ordered coffee, black.

It was brought to the table almost immediately.

Words were not exchanged as they sat there, sipping their coffee and looking out across the street.

She was watching two children playing in the fountain in the town circle.

He was watching the shop owner up the street wash his window. The window was covered in suds. Fresh Bread Made Daily the window said.

They could both smell the bread from their table.

Finally he spoke.

“We have to make a decision.”

“I know” she replied. She took another sip of coffee.

The children were running now, in circles around the fountain, laughing under the deluge.

Their mothers were sitting on a bench, talking and watching.

“I don’t really want too, you know” she stated.

“I know,” he replied softly, still watching the window washer. “But we don’t have a choice. She can’t…”

“I know she can’t,” she interrupted sharply. Realizing, her tone softened. “I just wish we didn’t have to be making this decision.”

“We have to,” he said again. “We owe this to her. She left the burner on again last night….you know she got lost last week…every since Dad died it’s been getting worse…”

Looking at the creamer on the table she decided that she would have some. Pouring it into her cup it made a cloud as the black coffee turned brown. She mixed it with the spoon just for something to do.

She thought. “Isn’t there a song out, something about clouds in my coffee…?”

She sighed.

“That was us, you know” she said, nodding towards the children and their mothers. “And that was her. When did this change? When did we become the ones having to make the decisions?”

He shook his head.

The window washer was rinsing his window. “Remember when she used to take us there?” he said. “She would let us have one slice of whatever we wanted.”

She smiled. “Only one, because we couldn’t ruin our dinner.”

They both laughed, strain combined with a good memory.

Sober, she said “She won’t like it.”

He set his cup down.

They looked at each other.

“She thought I was Uncle Steve” he said.

She nodded, biting her lip then looking away as tears started to come.

“Ok.” she said. Wiped her eyes with her napkin.

“Let’s start looking…”

“I have a list of places to start” he pulled a folded paper out of his pocket. “We can pick the best ones and then go visit them…”

And they began to compare and to discuss as the children went on playing in the fountain and their mothers continued watching.

And the window washer finished and went back inside his store.