Awash

I am swamped by topics, kneedeep in potential subject matter. I'm not sure where to start. Do I grab a mop and start swabbing my deck to soak up Beaudreaux, The Sharp-Dressed Man, The Box Lifters? Should I start bailing out the muddy water below decks? It sloshes against my ankles and distracts me with the faint scent of something that went bad weeks ago.

I have tales to tell. If only I had a scroll of parchment, an inkwell, a quill pen and enough hours on an island to sort it all all out. I have tales to tell.

I think - in the end - what lies in the hold will not require bailing. Fresh air, motion, and time should clear this. However, I like that phrase. "What lies in the hold..." On second thought, poetry may be in order. :) We'll see.

Perplexipity

When born two decades
too late,
one does what one can
to fit in among
those who refuse to
fit with the norm
as one learned it.

After all,
who needs
white gloves?
aprons?
linen napkins?

Please give me linen napkins.

The world is changing around
old-fashioned girls like me.

Even I don't believe in panty-hose
anymore. Not even in church.

I am struck with perplexipity.

Directive

(A few words about the following piece: I was inspired to write about how to handle a void that is quite wide, dark, and painful to endure. The thing I've come to realize about this void is that (although quite significant) it is most likely temporary. It is endurable. I need not get lost in the hurt of today, but instead consider the possibilities of tomorrow. I have much to be thankful for. I recognize challenge. I recognize difficulty. I need not yield my life to them.)






DIRECTIVE


Not there.

Not to the place of keening or wail.
Not there.

Not to the place of moaning,
of searching the mirror
for release from self-imposed
restriction.

Buckle up.

This ride is to a different place.

No signal,
no guidepost,
no map.

Swerve past your need to
linger where fresh pain
lays atop scar
like warm tar on a summer road.

The course stretches
before you.
Eyes forward.




M. Scofield 4/20/2008

Changing Tracks

At six o'clock, I woke up and decided it was too early to make any decisions regarding my day. I let the sun decide for me at nine. It told me to run. I've been getting most of my exercise by way of Nintendo Wii for the last eight days. I take walks when I can break away from my office or the operating room, but they hardly count as prolonged cardio exertion. They're more for mental fitness.

Today, the sun is making up for a storm-filled Saturday. It truly is a Sun-day. I parked near the bayou, stretched a teensy-tiny bit (I'm the world's worse fitness instructor) and started jogging toward the park. I decided to run on Hermann, taking the long way around the golf course, to avoid the area that is usually flooded after heavy rains. This would add an extra mile to my morning, but that's a good thing. Carlos Santana moved me on my way with "Yalleo".

Twelve minutes in, Carlos was still hitting those impressive notes. I was on repeat. Or he was. The sun was so bright I couldn't see to hit the controls on my MP3 player until I found some shade. Finally, finally, we moved on to something different. On shuffle now...more Santana. I have a lot of him loaded on that thing. My MP3 player is in a rut.

It was a sunny straightaway so I continued on, through the song and hit an oasis of cool as I rounded the far edge of the golf course and kd lang sang to me of "Jericho". Suddenly I was back in my run, calm and remembering why I do it - run. It lets me find a place where I can allow my own walls to fall, where I can be myself with myself. I can be in my own head, recognizing the emotions that I am experiencing at the time, or - if need be, I can check out and simple listen to my own footfalls. Today I needed to hone in on the music to see what is lying under the surface, what takes only a slight squeeze of the trigger to be released.

The last mile brought Los Lonely Boys singing "Tell Me Why". Interesting that one. It's about a relationship that's going flat after years of togetherness. I've always thought of it from the standpoint of romantic relationships. I've certainly heard the song dozens of times. In these difficult economic times (as we keep hearing from our fearless leaders), I suppose there are many who are wondering "why?". That's all I've got to say about that. Oh, it made me run faster - fast enough to get in four miles in thirty-five. I'll take it. Any sunny Sunday.

Girls' Night Out

He sings.
She shakes,
but(t)
there is a difference
in her attitude.

Her general hautiness
has given way to
looking toward
the door
to see if you
might see her
for she is

Out On The Town!

She fears reproach.
She fears retribution.
She fears the fear
that prevents her
from shaking to
James Brown
and
Average White Band
and
most of all...to

Prince.

Chemistry Geek's Anger

Steady!
Hold this.

Move not one mark
up or down the scale
of altitude,
temperature,
pressure.

This simmer,
this stew
pains
so right.

Power is in potential.
What lies in misty steam
over this roil?

Hold back.
Let not tears dilute
this precious energy.

Savor the seethe.
It comes not often
and will soon pass
to another phase.

Third Step - Again

"Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God."

For me, the Steps aren't like stairsteps. No, I don't ascend. I move horizontally. I like to think of the Steps as a path that I walk along, stones that I'm familiar with. In my mind's eye, these well-worn markers are cobbled, put together roughly but worn smooth from the many times I've paced over them, sometimes backing up to retrace my way before I can move on. Even though I've seen each one countless times, lately I've learned to stop and study where my feet are falling. I'm only now beginning to appreciate the journey rather than look forward to the destination.

Today, once again, I returned to the third step. I turned it over. "It" being - everything.

I'd fallen into that old habit (pattern/need/drive) to know (control/hold) - everything.

How can I possibly? I am living in a world of uncertainty. Even typing the previous sentence makes me realize how much I crave "settled". Recognizing this and wanting to turn it over gives me some comfort, but also allows me to see something different in this Step. I need to linger here awhile. I need to spend some time with myself here, in the quiet, on this path. There is a reason for me to return to this place at this time. I stand here in gratitude.

Indentation

Circle wound down,
shaving off years of essence.

Shackles are hard to shake.
Shackles are hard to shake.

Cover those scars
with gold and don't you worry.

Shackles are hard to shake.
Shackles are hard to shake.

Summer will come
and life will look the same.

Shackles are hard to shake.
Shackles are hard to shake.

Circle wound down,
shaving off years of essence.

Picnic

Sometimes it's enough
to stretch out on a
pink blanket
and gaze past the
live oak canopy,
pondering the depth
of skyblue as we
rest against our words.

After all,
the words will keep longer
than the potato salad
or the roast beef
and how often do we get
this
chance?

If we tire or thirst,
there is always iced tea.

My Vantage Point

I spend a great deal of time looking into people's faces. No, I mean really looking into their faces. My job gives me the opportunity to assist in cancer surgery which requires opening the face to reach back into the base of the skull to remove tumors. When I first started my odyssey of learning head and neck surgery, I felt lost within the cavernous depths of the human face. Once the skin is pulled back to expose what lies beneath, there is an incredible amount of intricacy. Happily, I was able to reinforce the anatomy lessons I'd previously committed to memory and I've become familiar with the muscles, nerves and vessels. I rarely feel lost within the tissues, and if I do, there are landmarks that quickly point me to certainty.

The interesting thing about my daily work is that I spend most of my surgical day looking at my patients upside down. We rotate the bed a hundred and eighty degrees so that the feet are away from us. This allows us full access to our surgical field. I stand at the crown of the head and look down and over the face. I get used to up being down and down being up. It's become second nature to me. When I was in surgical training, I can remember how I struggled with this concept when learning to guide endoscopic instruments. It seemed counterintuitive to move left to see right and vice-versa. I never thought I'd be able to run a camera properly.

Similarly, when looking at radiologic studies, right is left and left is right. I don't even think twice about it. I realize now that when I'm standing face to face with someone that I'm examining clinically, I transpose their MRI or CT scan onto their face, switching the study to fit their actual, physical presence without even considering the steps I've taken in my mind to do so.

Lately I've questioned my decision to remain in clinical medicine. The hours are getting longer, the pay certainly won't get much higher, and the rewards are becoming more and more difficult to define in my own mind. I've considered moving back into Psychiatry or hospice care. The thing I need to consider is that it's taken me several years to develop this sense of knowing, this being able to look into the face of my patients and grasp my place. This is a comfort level that I don't want to take for granted, but neither do I want to throw it away because I am aware that it has taken me so very long to get here.