The Hub

If I were clever like Mary Garvey or Wes Weddell or Larry Murante or Andrew Emlen or Cate or Fred or our neighbor Tucker… I’d write a song.  I don’t know if it would be a lament along the lines of “Danny Boy” or a ballad like “The Sloop John B” or more likely a nonsense song like “I’ve Got A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts.” Only the subject is clear in my mind — the trials and tribulations of the patients at St. Vincent’s.  Although, I’d probably call it St. V’s for the sake of the rhyme scheme.

I think there would be  a verse dedicated to each of the hospital hurdles we’ve encountered — the rules, the hierarchy of doctors, the inconsistency of nurses, the push and pull among therapists, the ever-changing dietary limitations for starters.  The chorus, of course, would be about mysteries of communication under this roof.  Perhaps the title should be something like “And Don’t Tell the Patient Anything at All.”

Command Center

I’m pretty sure it’s not just us.  Yesterday, as I waited for the elevator, a woman was pacing back and forth nearby talking on her cell phone.  “Thirteen people have been in to see her this morning.  They all said something different.  Two of them were doctors.  They said something still different –not what any of the other thirteen had said and they didn’t agree with each other, either.”

I was so tempted to weigh in with Nyel’s experiences.  But… none of my business.  If I’d already had my song written, I’d have broken into the rollicking chorus.  (I do think it needs to be rollicking, don’t you?)  Stay tuned, as they say.  A Hospital Hit is in the making!