This week’s Grand Rounds are dedicated to two of my nieces, Ghastly Ashley and Crazy Katie, and my nephew, Luckless Chance. I attended these three, along with my own two children, as they went Trick-or-Treating last Halloween in Metairie, Louisiana. It was about two months after Hurricane Katrina, and only one in five houses in the neighborhood were even inhabited. Most were dark and empty. There were huge piles of trash piled everywhere on the street as people tore out carpet, flooring, and threw ruined furniture out on the curb.
We negotiated the piles of trash and made it to the few inhabited houses. We were the only ones on the street, and the kids were probably the only children left in the neighborhood. They collected a small but precious treasure of candy, but more importantly, they kept the tradition of Halloween alive in their neighborhood for another year.
There has been considerable rebuilding in that neighborhood in the last year, and most of the kids are back. Here’s hoping Ashley, Katie, and Chance have a better Halloween this year.
And now, without further delay, and with apologies to Edgar Allen Poe, I present to you
The Intern
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I rounded weak and weary
Stomach hot and rumbling, I came bleary and a-stumbling
For a cup of hot caffeine through the doctor’s parlor door.
On the sofa lurked before me a shadow breaking silence with rumbling snore.
‘Tis some visitor, I muttered, slumb’ring loudly, bell'wing out that roar.
A sleeping Intern, nothing more.
Ah, distinctly I remember twins delivered last September
Sadly recalled by the Fat Doctor, a patient that she had before;
Or maybe Ghosts the Tundra froze, that living were Yupik Eskimos.
I steeled myself – made no fuss, recalled a day on the Singing Bus
Traveling happily through Uganda, Borneo Breezes dancing
on the wooden floor.
Simply this, and nothing more.
Though it was not in my plan, commenced I to worry once again
Just like the Keagirl – high creat her nerves gravely implore;
Gulping coffee got me to shaking, like Michael Fox I was a-quaking
Jon Swift was right about that Limbaugh’s ever fetid roar
I peered into the dying darkness: a white coat outline, pristine, markless
Darkness, intern sleeping, nothing more.
The intern’s lips were lax and puck’ring, like a Diabetic suckr'ing
The drop of blood Diabetes Mine says on a digit tastes so fine.
Then the building was struck with a gust that rattled Doctor Gordon’s bust
Estimable estimator of SIDS and of the pacifier’s crust
His impassive face stood unmoved in its place above the parlor door –
Dr. G was never a bore.
My knees and legs went then a-slack, I fell straightaway on my back
Thinking for relief of pain, I could go pick Dr. Shadowfax’s brain;
I sadly knew not how to reach him, so that I could then beseech him
As Mother Jones RN has said, to find a doctor can make one insane
Or Protect the Airway: A shock extorts all mem'ry from the brain
Anything more would be a pain.
Then the room was filled with light, though iridescent – shak’n with fright
I remembered Doc Palter’s ease of using odd light to diagnose disease.
Nausea then stuck me, struck me though I had no proof
Sneezing could be the culprit – I should consult with the savant Moof.
Liz Edwards did Tech Medicine’s Choi, quite thoroughly please
A doctor respecting a lawyer’s wife – wonders never cease.
Back to the coffee pot turning, all my soul within me burning,
I spied some black food Cynthia Sass concocted for the peasant hoard
Could it be another lead error, as The Antedote softly bellowed
Cancer study results mellowed, survival rates in error soared;
Many babies died from sepsis but no guilt admitted by the hospital board
For this, Parallel Universe is abhorred.
Open here I flung the shutter, mammogram films went flit and flutter
NICURNmama starts to stutter about an Area of Concern.
I pinched the films ‘tween thumb and finger, tension in my back will linger
Many hours shall they linger, unless I stretch my back will burn
Says The Fitness Fixer, so I her test will surely learn
But waking now is the Intern.
Then this darkling ‘Tern beguiling my sad fancy into smiling
Scared to Health might not approve, trust she wants her docs to prove.
“Do we, dear ‘Tern, commence to fight? Bruises never put wrongs a-right.
Teen Health’s words thus decide what relationships are for?”
Intern though remained impassive, the ranks of doctors are too massive
Fixin' Healthcare settles the score.
“Then a curse on you shall be your fate, I make you Do Not Rescuscitate
Contrivances of Doing Good I cast with scorn upon the floor,
Cursed, you ‘Tern, shall be your fate – no HIV certificate
Shall clarify to you your fate when a negative test comes to your door.”
The “Tern seemed like Health Impact calculating the Cost of Death as
health bills soar.
Quoth the Intern: “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken like a patient who has spoken
To get the information Cancer Treatment says from doctors to implore;
My mood turned quickly to ferocious, like advanced Multiple Sclerosis
Which though an illness quite atrocious Dr. Kavokin will carefully explore.
“As Kevin MD describes, to what hideous heights to get my attention
will you soar?”
Quoth the Intern, “Nevermore.”
I hefted in hand a Halloween treat and hurled it at him in his seat
The Family Fork hath said this treat hath health risks for the kids galore.
His figure faded into fog like promises of Squibb in Healthcare Business Blog
No time for regrets said Hearty Life Blog, spending time with people is
what healthcare’s for.
“Mercury vaccine for you,” I said, “a poison from Disease Proof’s store!”
Quoth the Intern, “Nevermore.”
Once more I thought of M. J. Fox and of his quaking, shaking locks
What Billy Ruben thought first, I thought last, “If you like Limbaugh you’re
a real jackass.”
The ‘Tern looked bloated, like a ‘betic with kidney disease
Could Clinical Cases be right, did he skip his ARBs?
Perhaps he had MRSA, as per Medicine for the Outdoors?
Quoth the Intern: “I have no sores.”
Still I sat engaged in guessing, the Science of Telehealth progressing,
A Rural Pediatrics case could he have been some many years before?
There is no peace, no kings to laud, homeopathy’s a fraud
Said Scientia Natura once before; there is no cover for quacks any more.
“Fool ‘Tern,” said I, “Rise from slumber and attend to patients on the floor.”
Quoth the Intern: “Nevermore.”
But the intern, sitting lonely on that placid sofa, spoke only,
As if a Wandering Visitor did the contents of his consciousness outpour
Like Healthcare Law Blog's Missing Patient Data, oh I can’t think
it’s getting late-a
His mind as empty as the state of, a patient in antidepressant withdrawal,
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore.
Quoth the Intern, “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “Lion or Lamb! Be the leader I think that I am!
“Ultrasounds to read and scan, or radiologists reclaim that store!
Poll the patients! Poll the docs! Harvest the embryo the patient adopts!
Men with breast cancer, eagles with socks, are as rare as the intern
who sleeps on the floor!
Take thy stethoscope from thy own heart, and take thy form posthaste out my door!”
Quoth the Intern, “Nevermore!”
And the Intern, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
With a pack of Ketek in his pocket on the sofa near the door;
And his beeper keeps on beeping like a demon that is speaking,
And he won't consider seeking to find whoever needs him on the floor.
As for me I have a headache, knowing too much from
Gruntdoc's words before.
Try this again? “NEVERMORE!”
Next week's Grand Rounds will be hosted by MSSP Nexus Blog. Hope to see you there!
Notes
Photo credit: Pencilling by Gabe, coloring by Sunshine (I found it in Flickr)
Poem of course inspired by "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe. I will try in the next week to write up a post discussing the text of "The Raven" and how I painfully and laboriously integrated it into this post.