Habemus El libro azul

¿Qué es eso a lo que llamamos consciencia, y cómo forma la memoria —cuando recordamos, cuando amamos, cuando olvidamos? ¿Es un mismo ente “quién es” y “quién recuerda haber sido”? ¿ A dónde va quien parece desaparecer con la enfermedad? ¿ Y cuánto de la creación artística es repositorio de la memoria? ¿Cuánto es locura? La poesía sigue preguntando. Continue reading Habemus El libro azul

Code Blue

“Code Blue, TICU” That was David. I rushed to his room as part of the Trauma Team, not really knowing what was going on. His lips were gray and there was not the slightest hint of red on his cheeks. His pulse was faint and erratic. The multiple sensors attached to his body displayed a desperate SOS. His oxygen saturations were low. SOS. His blood pressure kept dropping. SOS. He was cold. Continue reading Code Blue

Our First Patient

There is a part of me amazed, a part of me penitent. I am sorry to drag a blade down the middle of your chest, and then to the side, peeling away the first layer of skin and fat. I am sorry to cut through your skin with no intention of sewing it back together again. I am sorry that one of us will crack your ribs, one by one, and watch our professor use a loud saw to separate your sternum. I am sorry that between my cringing, I am still curious, still excited to see what lies beneath. I am sorry that we change our scalpel blades when they get dulled on your body, so that they are sharp again. Continue reading Our First Patient