November Notes, Day 6

"The Death of George Bell"

I just read an interesting article in the New York Times about a man named George Bell.  He wasn't famous.  He had no famous relatives.  He wasn't famous for anything himself in life, but now has a name in death.  And, he died alone.

I think about people like him when I work in the emergency department.  The kind of people where you think "there but for the Grace of God go I."  The kind where you stop to wonder, who would morn them if they were gone?

Reading this, I thought back to a lot of patients who were regulars and then later died.  We know that they died and that they will not be coming back to the ED, but did anyone else care?  I started to think about "Cowboy" who I wrote about in residency.  I don't think he had a family.  The article made me think about all those patients who leave home in an ambulance and then never return.

It also made me think back to a cardiac surgery patient I had at the VA when I was in medical school.  A simple surgery led to a serious complication led to his death.  I remember telling the family, and their first question was "where are his car keys and where did he park the car?"  Suddenly, I wondered what happens to the cars that patients leave behind when they come to the hospital to check in and never check out?  Mind blown.

How prepared are we for our own deaths?  I'm not talking wills and estates, I'm talking what gets left behind and who's going to sort through it, and what are they going to think?  A good friend had to deal with his mother's belongings after she died.  A mother he wasn't particularly close to, and now he had to deal with her "mess."  And, it was a mess because she was a hoarder.  Seriously, what do you make of "collections" which were important to the person but have no meaning for the survivors?

I guess death is on my mind.  The code patient from my post of a few days ago was pulled off life support.  They were a regular.  I'd seen them multiple times in the ED.  Now, they're another name to be remembered and scratched off the list... but still remembered... at least they didn't die alone.

spring is like...

One of my favorite poets is e.e. cummings, and I was thinking about his poem "spring is like a perhaps hand" the other day when we visited the OK Corral in Tombstone, Arizona.  As many of you know, I love to travel, and while in Tucson for a conference this last weekend, we did something fun for my husband which was to indulge his Wild West fancies.            Have you ever been to a tourist location before it "opens" for business?  That's what reminded me of this poem.  We got to Tombstone relatively early... around 9:30.  Since most of the stores didn't open until 10, and since it was the weekend, the town was still in the process of "waking up" when we got there.   We went into one of the small cafes for a quick breakfast, and while we were in there several of the store owners and tourist operators were stopping in for their own breakfast.  Everyone in town dresses in the style of the late 1800's, so it was fun to see the high boots and spurs on the men, and the long skirts and prairie tops of the women.  We walked out onto the main street just a little after 10, and you could see the town slowly coming to life. 

As we came in and out of stores, you started to see more people on the streets and soon the town was humming along.  More cowboys showed up.  Fights broke out on the streets.  A lot of tourists came in costume.  It's always an amazing thing for me to watch.  It reminds me of early morning walks in Boston when the city slowly comes to life.  We spent several hours in Tombstone, mostly to find my husband the perfect cowboy hat and to watch a live performance show at the Wyatt Earp Theatre (very reasonable, and good actors btw - better than the OK Corral show).

We drank ice cold sarsaparilla (very creamy smooth) sold by one of the local vendors who recommended we go to the town of Bisbee which is located about 20 miles south of Tombstone.  Since it was about time for lunch, we decided to go.  Bisbee is a copper mining town that has now turned into an artist/antiques touristy venue.  There are lots of small shops and restaurants to explore, not to mention the array of houses built onto the hillside.  All in all, a very fun "off the beaten path" road trip.

by e. e. cummings

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere) arranging
a window, into which people look (while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here) and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things, while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there) and

without breaking anything.