From Dusk to Dawn

“You showed us, Boston, that in the face of evil, Americans will lift up what’s good. In the face of cruelty, we will choose compassion. In the face of those who would visit death upon innocents, we will choose to save and to comfort and to heal. We’ll choose friendship. We’ll choose love. Because Scripture teaches us God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love and self-discipline.”

-President Obama

It’s been a tough week. Thanks Mr. President for this reminder.

~ ~ ~

a repost from my old blog.  life before the tragedy. 

The cityscape twinkled beyond the windows, as the train slowly crossed the bridge.  It was dusk; the darkness looming and the sky scraper lights illuminating.  Peering out, old memories began to flood my mind. I remembered the hundreds of times which I admired this same scene: the river, the buildings, the lights. Except I wasn’t on the train those times, I was at the bedside, in the hospital.

I don’t know you
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can’t react

Each morning, at the break of dawn, I reluctantly slipped into my patients rooms around 5 o’clock, to draw blood work and give my 6 o’clock medications.  No one likes being abruptly awoken in the middle of their sleep, especially to get a needle stuck in their arm.  So I began the routine gradually: called out their name, turned on the light, and gave a little tug to their shoulder to wake them up.  Sometimes, after getting up, they used the bathroom or brushed their teeth. As I waited, I sorted out their medications or lab supplies at the bedside; my hands worked efficiently, but my eyes watched the world below me through the window.

And games that never amount
To more than they’re meant
Will play themselves out 

The sun peeked above the horizon.  Cars emerged from the abyss, their headlights beaming into the stillness of the morn, swerving around the curvy roads to reach the bridge.  They’d stroll over to our side of the city, veering inbound or outbound.  Then, not far below, along the river banks, marathon runners trained daily, regardless of the weather.  In sleet, in snow, in sunshine, in solitude, they ran. Nothing stopped them. A steady current, pulsating through their veins, propelled them forward, no matter the conditions.

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We’ve still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You’ll make it now

 This is the best view from the hospital… I love that bridge, they’d say. Looking out their windows, my patients longed to be apart of that world.  To leave isolation, the pain, the procedures. They hoped to return to normalcy as soon as possible.  To get back to work. To see their family and friends. To be free again.

Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can’t go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I’m painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It’s time that you won

 The tourniquet tight around their upper arm, I’d finger along their antecubital site, feeling for a spongy vessel, indicative of adequate blood flow and volume.

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We’ve still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice

A perturbed inhale, a heavy sigh. I have no more veins. I don’t have any blood left.  Must I have my blood drawn today? Their eyes said it all. I just want this to be over.  

You’ve made it now
Falling slowly sing your melody
I’ll sing it loud

I didn’t have much to offer, except to work quietly, lend a listening ear.  And a silent prayer, knowing that God gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. 

“Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”-Isaiah 40:30-31

~ ~ ~