[Poetry] start the kettle

On my family medicine clerkship, some of my most cherished (and deeply moving) moments came from leading end-of-life care conversations with patients including designation of medical power of attorney and solidifying advance directives. Such dialogue continues to kindle my passion for geriatric care. However, the American medical system must do better to empower patients to understand the many medical services we can provide, including the demystification of hospice care and palliative care. No longer can we, in medicine and in society-at-large, continue to ignore death and dying as a natural part of life. This poem, "start the kettle," was written in reflection of such issues dear to my heart.

--

bolt the doors! lock them twice!
perhaps She will not come!
in such ignorance we find joy so temporary,
shaming and belittling Her
in our foolish feints to dodge Her.

we synonymize and mislabel Her,
costumed and ill-depicted.
Her presence is removed from our minds.
we cry that Her name will not pass our lips;
the Ostracized Outcast is unabashedly unwelcome

wake up! wake up unto new life! wake up, i beg!
you - who perceive this Woman as a Thief most vile
who will steal your finest jewels
tell me:
what thief makes Herself known to all?
what thief knocks and rings the doorbell?
are you so blind? open your eyes!
She is no source of fear!
mistreat Her no more!

She is a mere constant - like gravity.
She greets us, one and all:
our shared Mistress
in the end of the big chase
sheer surprise
or sobering self-retreat into Her arms.

She will be terribly apathetic
so long as you are of Her existence.
of course She shows up unexpected and uninvited!
we provide Her no directions to our house -
which way do you prefer? how should She find you?
it is easier to take the highway or the side roads?

These thoughts might molest the mind,
strip the soul, and harrow the heart -
but they need not.

if She must come,
plan ahead.
start the kettle.
invite Her into your home when She arrives,
whenever that might be. She is busy, remember.
offer Her tea, and be a good host.
for, yes, She comes for you,
but may you go in peace with Her.

[Poetry] Perspective

I wrote this poem entitled "Perspective" in honor of one of my patients on my neurology clerkship service. Señora, gracias por todas las lecciones de vida que compartió conmigo. Me encantó nuestras conversaciones y las aprecio.

"You are stupid. Don't think for a single second You know your disease! To be there for your family And To be strong for your children, What you say is closest to your heart -  What is most important is To succumb to your illness. You must learn not, If you want to find happiness, To find hope amid the darkness Surrender to the battle! After all, acceptance is the Solution to the chronic state. Don't you see? This is not a  Proper way to grieve! There is no Pause. Counting your blessings Won't stop the disease. You should be Wallowing in sadness. My dear, don't you get it yet? Yes, you have multiple sclerosis!"

"Yes, you have multiple sclerosis." "My dear, don't you get it yet? Wallowing in sadness Won't stop the disease. You should be  Counting your blessings. Pause. There is no Proper way to grieve. "Don't you see? This is not a  Solution to the chronic state. After all, acceptance is the  Surrender to the battle. To find hope amid the darkness, If you want to find happiness, You must learn not To succumb to your illness." "'What is most important is What you say is closest to your heart -  To be there for your family And To be strong for your children. You know your disease. Don't think for a single second You are stupid."