The strangest thing I see is the transition between deadness and aliveness, the way this man’s face gets filled again as though with something. Continue reading The Time I Led A Code at the Airport
Cada recurso y muchas figuras retóricas exigen del lector/a una participación para, juntos, descorrer el velo. Aún así esto no basta porque el velo tal vez sea el territorio por excelencia donde habita el poema. Continue reading ¿Cómo habla una mujer? ¿De qué habla?
First I said nothing. Then, “Sure Ma, I’ll do it.” I waited a beat. “But don’t you think we will be suspicious, running out of here at two a.m., you in your robe, carrying a lung machine?” She didn’t think so. Continue reading Mama’s gonna buy you a mocking bird
Behind locked doors, I bear witness to a different kind of suffering, the plaintive cry of voiceless souls on fire burning with the fury of neglect. Continue reading On the Psychiatric Frontlines of the COVID-19 Pandemic
“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