Wednesday, November 7, 2012
The Beat Goes On
My body crumpled underneath a blanket, I try to keep my eyes open with the rest of the nation. The daunting hurdles of the last call cycle still washing over my listless spirit. I saw thirty five patients. Some by choice, most by necessity. As a nation travelled to the polls, I rounded in the hospital. I tended to diabetes, hypertension, colds, and various other illnesses in the office.
I helped two patients die. Or more accurately, I struggled to use primitive tools to enhance the quality of what little life was left. I talked to their families, huddled with the nurses, and signed all the orders.
I answered phone calls. In the exam room, in the car, in the bathroom. I signed papers, hundreds and hundreds of papers. So many papers that my hand began to cramp and my signature became an eligible scrawl.
I will awake tomorrow and do it all again. The pundits will speculate, a president will return to the business of a nation, and the people will go back to the minutia that fills our overcrowded lives.
And the beat goes on.
Posted by Jordan Grumet at 6:13 PM