“You Learn Something New Every Day”

 “You Learn Something New Every Day”

On July 26, 2014, I learned something new.

I learned that there is a monster called Intracerebral Hemorrhagic Stroke.

It is possible I had hear of it in passing, but until that day, it lurked elsewhere.

It wasn’t when I went to my father’s apartment because he didn’t show up to the planned picnic.

It wasn’t when I was knocking loudly on his door, or after I heard what I thought was loud snoring.

Or once the door was open and the firefighters and I discovered my father on the floor fighting to breath.

It wasn’t on the ambulance ride to Mass General Hospital, or in the waiting area of the emergency room.

It wasn’t among the myriad texts and conversations with others trying to find out information from me while my phone battery was slowly dying.

But, later on in an exhausted moment, that I learned of the horror of Intracerebral Hemorrhagic Stroke from a young physician who drew the short straw and was tasked with explaining to my Sister and I, that our Father‘s life had been irrevocably changed.

However, that wasn’t the only thing I learned.

I learned that despite the irrevocable change to my Father, that there resided small graces and victories within the experience as it unfolded.

I learned of the extraordinary compassion and care that can be delivered by nurses, doctors, and staff.

I learned of the lengths and actions to which family and friends would go to support us, and my Father.

I learned that it is imperative to create a healthcare proxy and designate people to make decisions about your health if you ever end up in position where you are unable to do so for yourself.

I learned that when you suffer and Intracerebral Hemorrhagic Stroke that if you can survive past 30 days, then the chances of a long hard road to recovery could improve.

On August 23, 2014 I learned something new.

I learned that 29 days can seem like a lifetime, and that nothing is promised.

I learned how fast I could get to a hospital from my home. 15 minutes 20 seconds. 

I learned after years of working at a hospital, what it was like to be brought to a family grief room before you could be brought into the room of a dying parent.

I learned that death doesn’t happen like it does in the movies, or in books, that it is actually quite anticlimactic and that sometimes it is unclear when the actual moment of death occurs.

I learned that when an attending physician asks you as a healthcare proxy, what you want to have done for your Father, that all else falls away and you are locked in the eye contact of a moment, and you need to decide hard for the life. 

I learned that I could do what needed to be done for my Father, as he had done for us all his life.

I learned that when the dust settled, and the doctors and nurses cleared the bay to give us our last moments with our Father, that it wasn’t the words I love you, or that it’s okay Dad, but just two words forever: Thank you! Thank you!

I learned that in the staged moment of death, that whatever I brought to the table in the way of preconceived notions, it all succumbed to a need to express my sincerest gratitude to my father for so many things, and a simple thank you was all that was needed.

On June 25 2016 I learned something new.

At my son’s pre-school graduation, I learned that Atticus wanted to be a ninja when he grows up.

On December 7, 2018 I learned something new.

When I was cleaning out Atticus’s first grade folder of the weeks completed work, I found a butterfly craft that had a number of paper folds with a question on one side and the answer on the other. As I went around the butterfly wings I saw a familiar question. What do you want to be when you grow up? And I was certain that it was going to say ninja, but when I turned the flap over, it simply read: A Daddy. I feel nothing but the sincerest gratitude that I learned that today.

POEMVEMBER 2018-DAY 29:“Runner’s High”

Beat up bunions
Image Link

“Runner’s High”

I ain’t never had no runner’s high.

My pursuits reside in the realm of sedentary.

I only run a length when chased.

My sprinting speed quite ordinary.

A life threatened makes for haste.

I know not of a runner’s high.

Any effort to escape,

Will likely rupture my left thigh.

Maybe I’ll just wait a bit,

Until the opportunity arrives.

Running is a game for fools,

While walking satisfies.

 

A special thank you goes out to my friend Evangeline Vickery. A continual supporter of my writing and bloggery. Always at the ready to help out. Thanks for forcing me to create a total fiction. I’ve had many highs in my days, but a runner’s high hasn’t been one of them.

Poemvember 2018, is a month long poetry project where colleagues, friends, and associates volunteer a word or phrase, which I in turn fashion into a poetical response. I have great fun exploring all the possibilities that are volunteered, and enjoy collaborating with people whether they are writers, poets, or readers.

If you enjoyed this post, stay tuned for tomorrow, as it will be the last day of the project, which will soon to be followed by a new month long project: The ProCrasstheNation.com Advent Calendar Blog. Give me a month, and I’ll give you 25 Mysterious Decorative Doors. What awaits behind each day’s door? Well, you’ll have to click the door links to find out. Please join me for what promises to be a fun month of poems, stories, and a few Christmas Surprises.

Previous Poemvember Post

If anyone is in the Metro Boston area on December 7th, please consider joining me, and my best friend, the West Coast Bandit, as we attend a night full of entertainment for a great cause at: Don’t Forget Your Art!

There is a strong rumor that I will be performing a previously unpublished piece.

https://www.paperlesspost.com/flyer/go/j1BZnnAFjklWlNTM7JQp

POEMVEMBER 2018-DAY 27:“Tintinnabulation”

Tintinnabulation rings out
Photo Courtesy of Daniel Marcella

“Tintinnabulation”

Tin, tin, tinny,

Ring a swinging bell.

Above in a cupola,

Or, at a wishing well.

A peal of bells,

Ringing all eight.

Five thousand changes,

Sound waves, fluctuate.

A casual warning,

From bike handlebars.

A gas station calling,

From gas-guzzling cars.

The sound travels swiftly,

And ends in an ear.

Tintinnabulation,

Oft hangs in the air.

Angel wing indicator,

A storefront alarm,

Salvation Army builds biceps,

From bell-swinging arms.

Ring, ring, ringy,

The sound of a bell.

Tintinnabulation,

Poe’s term echoes well.

 

 

A special thank you goes out to my friend Lisa Spardel Krol. She always seems to find the right word to challenge me when I do these month-long poetry projects. She allowed me to roll two of my favorite things into one: Poe and Poetry. I also learned something new, as I had never focused on the term tintinnabulation until now. I expect to be newly challenged whenever I move into my next project.

Poemvember 2018, is a month long poetry project where colleagues, friends, and associates volunteer a word or phrase, which I in turn fashion into a poetical response. I have great fun exploring all the possibilities that are volunteered, and enjoy collaborating with people whether they are writers, poets, or readers.

If you enjoyed this post, stay tuned for the remaining three days of the project, which will soon to be followed by a new month long project: The ProCrasstheNation.com Advent Calendar Blog. Give me a month, and I’ll give you 25 Mysterious Decorative Doors. What awaits behind each day’s door? Well, you’ll have to click the door links to find out. Please join me for what promises to be a fun month of poems, stories, and a few Christmas Surprises.

Previous Poemvember Post

Poe, like Shakespeare, invented words click here to find out more info

POEMVEMBER 2018-DAY 26:“Mustache Rides”

“Rocking The Stache” ©️C.P. Hickey 2018

“Mustache Rides”

One for a nickel,

Four will get you five.

Climb on up for a mustache ride.

Forget about an UBER,

LYFT, left you behind.

You can always depend on a mustache ride.

Contoured for your comfort,

Warm and cozy for your thighs.

There’s a pant load of fun in a mustache ride.

The bidet is out of order,

They forgot to post a sign.

But, that won’t exclude you from a mustache ride.

It’s a thrill when you get rocking,

And move from side to side.

Riding to Nirvana on a mustache ride.

There’s no finer entertainment,

For a newly married bride,

A motor board vibration, highlights many mustache rides.

“I didn’t mean to suffocate him,

Don’t act so surprised.”

Just another passive casualty of a mustache ride.

POEMVEMBER 2018-DAY 25:“Propaganda”

“Brought To Heel” ©️C.P. Hickey 2018

“Propaganda”

Propaganda, propaganda, war of words.

Mine, ours, yours, theirs, his, and hers.

Alleged, because of, doubtful indeed.

Information misleading everything perceived.

Trust is antiquated.

Snake tongues on the rise.

They will even lie to you,

while looking in your eyes.

Propaganda propositions serving hubristic masters,

Citizens traveling toward life-looping disasters.

Never, never, never, never, show your hand.

With highly polished words,

you can rule over the land.

Living within the mystery of administering misinformation,

Controlling tethered lemmings without their slightest protestation.

If you sell the dopes a half-baked truth,

One they’ll surely belief.

The path to exploiting their will,

Will fall before your feet.