Two times I've taken care of HIV positive patients. The first was a woman from Africa who had recently learned her (titer? do you call it?) was high enough so that she didn't not have HIV; she DID have HIV. She was holding her newborn, and she looked bewildered, lost. She was unable to breastfeed the baby because HIV can be passed along with breast milk. So what was she supposed to do with it? What does one do with a newborn when you can't breastfeed it.
The second was recently. The woman was from Zimbabwe, and her husband attended her. She was 16 weeks along, and had chorio. I had her on two antibiotics, and she had received Cytotec, to further induce the miscarriage she presented with on her admission to the ER. Some time after she delivered the little fetus, still in its sack, she said to me, she knew she was having problems two days earlier, when she began to bleed from her vagina. Now. She came into the ER later Saturday night, and when I received her Sunday morning, she had already received a dose of tylenol and her first dosages of antibiotics, I took her temperature first thing, at 7, and it was greater than 103. I say this to illustrate the fact that this lady was sick, and I am not joking. Never mind the HIV, whatever bacterial infection that it was that was inside her cloaked her like an aura; I was scared taking care of her, and washed my hands more taking care of her than maybe I ever have. She was sick at home at least two days before seeking medical attention, suffering.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
When I was in high school, and in love with Sam Coursey, I would sometimes leave school and wend my way over to his mother's house. I would find him in his quarters on the third floor. As I recall, he had fabric hanging here and there, functioning as partitions, and furniture, such as his bed, dressers, arm chairs, positioned to define spaces: a sitting area, a working area, a sleeping area. We would talk, we would visit, we would spend some time in bed together. Sensing that I was less than central to his life, I would eventually take my leave.
Once when I went to his house, his girlfriend, Mary, was there. He had spoken of her in the past, and I think I was surprised when I met her. My high school was a small private school in Portland, and when I walked over to Sam's house, I walked through a rather nice neighborhood. As Sam had described Mary's beauty to me previously, I had a little more in the way of expectation, and while she was reasonably pretty, Mary had features (Italian? perhaps) that in New England would be considered common in the pejorative sense. Anyhow, Mary looked at me in the way of "How dare you," and I'm not sure how this played out. I may have realized this was a very bad time indeed, and left. I want to say she had another friend with her; maybe they left, and my visit with Sam overlapped clumsily with hers.
Maybe that was the same visit where Sam and I sat in his armchairs and looked at record album covers. Women's eyes mattered to him. He spoke of Mary's eyes, their beauty, their expressiveness, etc. He also loved the lead singer for the Motels, Martha Davis. "Look at her eyes," he said. He may have compared Martha Davis' eyes with Mary's. It might have been that way.
Even if Sam did compare Mary to Martha Davis, it isn't the reason I never liked the Motels. I only remember the popular covers, "Only the Lonely," and "Suddenly last summer," and they did nothing for me. Those two songs got a lot of undeserved airplay, as I saw it, but I wasn't about to say this to Sam Coursey when he was saying how wonderful they were and I wanted to go to bed with him. Heart, on the other hand, was another matter. We listened to Dog and the Butterfly and looked at its jacket. Maybe we spoke of eyes, maybe we spoke of the expressiveness of voices.
It wasn't Sam. It wasn't Mary. I like Heart. I don't like the Motels.
I can see myself in the bathroom at the library in Bath, hearing the Pretender's song, "Brass in Pocket." It must have been popular at that time (I could undoubtedly assign the year this moment occurred if I knew the year the record was released) and was in my head. It was that way with "Tusk," I see myself in similar places, in Bath, at home, hearing those songs. I was probably 14.
Now I know
I've got to play my hand.
What the winner don't know
the gambler understands.
My heart keeps a playing it through
for you my friend,
I'll take my chances on you
again and again..
Coming straight on for you
You made my mind
Now I'm stronger
Now I'm coming through
Straight on
Straight on for you
Straight on
Straight on
I'm straight on for you
Straight on for you.
Once when I went to his house, his girlfriend, Mary, was there. He had spoken of her in the past, and I think I was surprised when I met her. My high school was a small private school in Portland, and when I walked over to Sam's house, I walked through a rather nice neighborhood. As Sam had described Mary's beauty to me previously, I had a little more in the way of expectation, and while she was reasonably pretty, Mary had features (Italian? perhaps) that in New England would be considered common in the pejorative sense. Anyhow, Mary looked at me in the way of "How dare you," and I'm not sure how this played out. I may have realized this was a very bad time indeed, and left. I want to say she had another friend with her; maybe they left, and my visit with Sam overlapped clumsily with hers.
Maybe that was the same visit where Sam and I sat in his armchairs and looked at record album covers. Women's eyes mattered to him. He spoke of Mary's eyes, their beauty, their expressiveness, etc. He also loved the lead singer for the Motels, Martha Davis. "Look at her eyes," he said. He may have compared Martha Davis' eyes with Mary's. It might have been that way.
Even if Sam did compare Mary to Martha Davis, it isn't the reason I never liked the Motels. I only remember the popular covers, "Only the Lonely," and "Suddenly last summer," and they did nothing for me. Those two songs got a lot of undeserved airplay, as I saw it, but I wasn't about to say this to Sam Coursey when he was saying how wonderful they were and I wanted to go to bed with him. Heart, on the other hand, was another matter. We listened to Dog and the Butterfly and looked at its jacket. Maybe we spoke of eyes, maybe we spoke of the expressiveness of voices.
It wasn't Sam. It wasn't Mary. I like Heart. I don't like the Motels.
I can see myself in the bathroom at the library in Bath, hearing the Pretender's song, "Brass in Pocket." It must have been popular at that time (I could undoubtedly assign the year this moment occurred if I knew the year the record was released) and was in my head. It was that way with "Tusk," I see myself in similar places, in Bath, at home, hearing those songs. I was probably 14.
Now I know
I've got to play my hand.
What the winner don't know
the gambler understands.
My heart keeps a playing it through
for you my friend,
I'll take my chances on you
again and again..
Coming straight on for you
You made my mind
Now I'm stronger
Now I'm coming through
Straight on
Straight on for you
Straight on
Straight on
I'm straight on for you
Straight on for you.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
remarks, Sept. 3, 2008
In the past, I've spoken to nobody. I journal. I talk to myself. Perhaps, speaking as nobody, some one may hear, and be interested.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)