Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh
Hearing the baby’s heartbeat from outside the door, I stepped into the exam room to check the patient on the monitor.
“Hola, soy Soapie, una enfermera (Hello I’m Soapie, a nurse),” I introduced myself, while looking at the curvy lines on the gridded paper.
“AHH!!!!! Soy yo! (It’s me!)” she exclaimed. Her eyes widened above her mask and grinned in the corners.
Continue reading
Riding his bike, an elderly man approached the intersection. His military green cadet hat and faded jacket looked familiar.
“Pbu! Jum reap sua! (Uncle! Hello!)” I crossed the street to meet him, placed my palms together, under my chin, and bowed my head. In Khmer, we call our friends, and our patients, family.
But he didn’t always feel the same way about me.
My hands were full.
Clutching a syringe, alcohol swabs, bandaids, and loose leaf papers, I approached the double doors with my filled fist towards my sternum, and my right arm angled outwards, ready to push the lever forward with my forearm and elbow.
Then, through the glass, an older man started towards the entrance, on the opposite side.
Toes tapped and heads bobbed to the groove of electric guitar, keyboard, and drums. The lead vocalist serenaded the audience. As he sang, I searched the tables for familiar faces.
Wrapped in her black coat, she sat quietly, hands folded in her lap.
“Jum reap sua (hello),” I pressed my palms together, raised them to my nose, and bowed my head in a formal Khmer greeting.
She hesitated.
Maybe she didn’t recognize me without the scrubs. Or maybe she couldn’t hear me, with the Khmer rock band blasting on the stage. The band was the highlight of the fundraising dinner for the Khmer community.
“Oh, it’s you!” her stoic expression transformed into a toothy grin. She patted my hand.
How far we have come…
The beanie cuddles the dark whispers of your hair
tenderly hiding those surgical scars
where staples gripped skin together
years of suffering clipped away
in your gentle smile,
You conquer.
The violet veins on your hands Continue reading
July 2008
All my nights here are really depressing… I’ve completed 4 shifts so far orienting at my new job. And so far, it’s pretty sad.
Night #1: My patient was really sick. As it turns out, he didn’t have any family so we didn’t even know who to notify that he probably didn’t have much time left.
Night #2: Family feud… felt like a soap opera.
Night #3: “Till death do us part.” My patient was hospitalized on their wedding day. =(
Night #4. A young patient who met tragedy all too soon…
But he did much better than anyone expected. I stayed at his bedside all night, and watched him go from “tragedy” to “tremendous.” Originally he was on a breathing machine, then he started to breathe on his own without the machine. By morning, he started to wake up and communicated with me by writing.
Imagine a square hospital room with a bed in the middle, and two nurses standing on either side of it.
It looked something like this:
Patient hands us a piece of paper and it reads:
(in shaky letters since his wrists were filled with IV’s, tubing, and soft restraints)
*speechless*
~ ~ ~
“the prettiest thing you’ll ever see…”
I’m gonna sing this song
To let you know that you’re not alone
And if you’re like me
You need hope, coffee, and melodySo sit back down
Let the world keep spinning ‘round
For yesterday’s gone and today is
waiting on you to show your face
“…being a nurse?” my patient’s husband asked me.
I hesitated. Continue reading
Relationships are like a cup of lai cha: “The Sentimental Flavor Lasts Forever” (toronto 2011)
A few days ago. A reunion.
I pushed the door open.
“Oh heeeey! How are you!” I greeted my patient warmly. Like we were old friends.
“Hi Soapie.. I’m good…” he beamed.
“It’s been a long time since I last saw you,” I said, placing a syringe, alcohol pad, and bandaid on the counter. I couldn’t even remember the last time.
“Trust me, I don’t want to see you,” Continue reading
another thing I’m thankful for: the colors of autumn. (2011).
Back in the day, when I was workin’ in the South, most my colleagues were white, black, or Latino.
Until I met Vladimir. Continue reading
She sat quietly, waiting. Her big eyes watching my every move.
I unsheathed the needle.
“It will only hurt a little bit, okay?” Continue reading
Searching for Substance 