Friday, May 28, 2004
Doors
Neil Gaiman's "Neverwhere" is an interesting read. He doesn't have quite the same insane ease with words as Pratchett, nor should he : his words are like his "Sandman" series. Motions. Actions. Speed.
I admit that part of the fascination for me was the way he turned the Everyday into something fascinating - the Earl's Court : quite literally, an Earl's Court. Perhaps it wouldn't hold so much fascination for me if I wasn't living in London.
I'm left with two questions :
1) how does he keep up with his imagination?
2) what is the man smoking??
Still, if I were to compare the two... I'd choose (at present moment) Pratchett, anyday.
Um and Pratchett over most women too. lol.
*****
Four hours sleep today. I've been drifting through the day today, my thoughts floating like woolly sheep in the sky. Not a good thing when dealing with an ST elevation myocardial infarction.
This day has been... meaningless. A consant sense of irritation at my brain failing to - quite - engage. kick. wake up. waaake uppp.
And the words around me. Empty. Instructions. Questions. Temper, constantly being reigned in, constantly on edge. (WHAT. YOU CAME TO THE A&E FOR A SPRAINED FINGE... WAN... TOS... hyperventilate... okay. Try again. "ah. you might wish to see your GP for this, he's better equipped for the treatment and investigation of minor conditions than we are, this is an emergency services department you see".)
The words uttered all around me today... were not significant. Life... was wasted today.
*****
Walking into resusc to see a "new" patient, there's a momentary shock of recognition as I meet a woman I admitted a few weeks back with a subtle expressive dysphasia. I remember telling the family then that it was probably a stroke, and the prognosis was variable (always paint the most dire picture....) and that strokes can extend, rebleed, repair - or do nothing. (ie... we don't know...) Only time has the answers.
Time, it seems dealt a cruel card. Two months later, I discover that CT showed a mass occupying lesion. Ie a brain tumour.
*****
Teetering on the brink of thrombolysing, I ask the woman, somewhere amidst the barrage of questions I've already fired at her : Does the pain go through to your back? She says "no". So you had some right-central chest pain going into your jaw? We decide to go for it. Retiplase, please.
Later, post-thrombolysis, the medical SHO reproachfully tells me the woman has given a history of central chest pain radiating through to between her shoulderblades. And CXR shows a possibly widened mediastinum. We'll know after the Trans-oesophageal echogram.
My heart skips a beat. Oh, shite. Did I forget to ask... have I sentenced her to death? But no... the cardiac specialist nurse reassures me. You did ask - I was standing next to you.
phew.
TOE is normal.
Dang these patients who change their minds and stories half-way. Don't they know this is life and death - not some kinda game??!
*****
Something inside him is squirming. Going back soon. What are you feeling?
Something. Misapprehension? Anticipation? Foreboding? Excitement? Difficult to pin down. Grr. Vaya, I think you might have been right after all.
Or maybe it's the pilot-worms. Heh.
And something else. The past... has faded. He hasn't immersed himself in the waters of yesterday in - quite a while now. The tide of todays has gently drawn him to face towards tomorrow.
*****
Walking home at 8pm under the intense glare of the not-yet setting sun though, you just have to smile.
And. Now. The waters close over once more. Falling...
I admit that part of the fascination for me was the way he turned the Everyday into something fascinating - the Earl's Court : quite literally, an Earl's Court. Perhaps it wouldn't hold so much fascination for me if I wasn't living in London.
I'm left with two questions :
1) how does he keep up with his imagination?
2) what is the man smoking??
Still, if I were to compare the two... I'd choose (at present moment) Pratchett, anyday.
Um and Pratchett over most women too. lol.
*****
Four hours sleep today. I've been drifting through the day today, my thoughts floating like woolly sheep in the sky. Not a good thing when dealing with an ST elevation myocardial infarction.
This day has been... meaningless. A consant sense of irritation at my brain failing to - quite - engage. kick. wake up. waaake uppp.
And the words around me. Empty. Instructions. Questions. Temper, constantly being reigned in, constantly on edge. (WHAT. YOU CAME TO THE A&E FOR A SPRAINED FINGE... WAN... TOS... hyperventilate... okay. Try again. "ah. you might wish to see your GP for this, he's better equipped for the treatment and investigation of minor conditions than we are, this is an emergency services department you see".)
The words uttered all around me today... were not significant. Life... was wasted today.
*****
Walking into resusc to see a "new" patient, there's a momentary shock of recognition as I meet a woman I admitted a few weeks back with a subtle expressive dysphasia. I remember telling the family then that it was probably a stroke, and the prognosis was variable (always paint the most dire picture....) and that strokes can extend, rebleed, repair - or do nothing. (ie... we don't know...) Only time has the answers.
Time, it seems dealt a cruel card. Two months later, I discover that CT showed a mass occupying lesion. Ie a brain tumour.
*****
Teetering on the brink of thrombolysing, I ask the woman, somewhere amidst the barrage of questions I've already fired at her : Does the pain go through to your back? She says "no". So you had some right-central chest pain going into your jaw? We decide to go for it. Retiplase, please.
Later, post-thrombolysis, the medical SHO reproachfully tells me the woman has given a history of central chest pain radiating through to between her shoulderblades. And CXR shows a possibly widened mediastinum. We'll know after the Trans-oesophageal echogram.
My heart skips a beat. Oh, shite. Did I forget to ask... have I sentenced her to death? But no... the cardiac specialist nurse reassures me. You did ask - I was standing next to you.
phew.
TOE is normal.
Dang these patients who change their minds and stories half-way. Don't they know this is life and death - not some kinda game??!
*****
Something inside him is squirming. Going back soon. What are you feeling?
Something. Misapprehension? Anticipation? Foreboding? Excitement? Difficult to pin down. Grr. Vaya, I think you might have been right after all.
Or maybe it's the pilot-worms. Heh.
And something else. The past... has faded. He hasn't immersed himself in the waters of yesterday in - quite a while now. The tide of todays has gently drawn him to face towards tomorrow.
*****
Walking home at 8pm under the intense glare of the not-yet setting sun though, you just have to smile.
And. Now. The waters close over once more. Falling...
