I can’t do poetry

I can’t do poetry, I never had the patience for rhymes and meters. Pentameters, a-a-b-c’s,  couplets and whatnots, spare me.

I can’t do poetry, symbolisms and metaphors fly over my head like sarcasms on a literal person. Blue skies are just fucking blue skies for me, okay.

I can’t do poetry, I don’t know how to group stanzas and lines. My writings always linger between being prose-like or a half assed, badly done, deconstructed poetry.

I can’t do poetry because I can’t translate my emotions to words. I’m numb, I’m cold, I’m stuck in a rut. Poetry cannot be stone cold and empty, can it?

I can’t do poetry. I don’t have the heart for it, okay maybe also talent and patience, but mostly heart. Probably because I’ve lost my heart while searching for poetry in you.


My mind works in a weird way. I was sexually harassed yesterday by a patient, he touched my breast while I was giving his IV meds. The weird thing is I know it happened but now I feel like it didn’t. Or at least my mind denies it. I don’t know.

I was telling it earlier to the staff and I was sort of smiling-laughing while I’m saying it. It just sounded ridiculous to me. Like that thing cannot possibly happen. It can’t.

It’s not really my first time being harrased like that. But same as what happened now, my mind refuses to acknowledge that it happened in reality. When I remember what happened, I feel like the me back then is separate from the me right now. It’s like I’m watching a film version of myself, a fictional version of myself.

I know it’s not the healthiest coping mechanism. Maybe my mind is still reeling from the incident that it chose to deny everything just to not throw up or get hurt. But I know that it happened because it also happened to the other staff so it’s not an isolated case. And I knew that it was not an isolated case because I told them about what happened to me before telling me that did also happen to them.

Good thing is, they’re going to report the patient.

Day 11

I don’t really recommend wearing pumps during your duty. If you did it by choice, then you’re an idiot, but if you’re like me, unlucky, I feel your pain honey.
My shoes got ruined mere minutes before I go out of the house. I tried to buy those rubber plastic shoes from the supermarket but they don’t have my size. So I was stuck wearing pumps that I haven’t worn for a year. My feet hurt so bad, considering that I have a high pain tolerance. Good thing some staff left their plastic shoes there and I was able to borrow it, hygiene be damned.

Duty today was toxic. I did the IV meds, bgm, insulin, and the IV flow sheet and some bedside thingy. I’m kind of annoyed with the nurse on duty. It’s not my shift so I don’t really know the flow that well. And I think I did almost everything, and I’m not sure if I’m inefficient that’s why I felt so swamped or she did not help me at all.

Shit still overwhelms me.

Day 10 (not really)

One of our patients died yesterday. The patient wasn’t supposed to die in my shift, I was so sure of it. But my colleague turned up 30 minutes before my shift ended, and we sort of tease her that she’s a grim reaper because 2 patients already died in her shift. And the fact that she just turned up when my patient died.

Just to be clear, the patients mentioned in this post are already dying, usually from 4th stage cancers with various complications. My patient and his relatives opted to not get intubated. They just waited for the patient to expire.

It’s sad to watch, I have been there, I know how it feels. I have been holding back flashbacks and tears throughout that night. It’s a good thing I was sleep deprived and busy doing things.

Day 9

My two days off are done. Gonna go back to reality tonight. I hope everything is alright and everyone is alive when I go back.

About the military nursing gig, I really want to do it, but I can’t convince my mother so she’s thinking about sending me back to California after my training. I think she’s getting desperate since I am almost being adamant about joining the military (almost because I can’t explicitly go against her wishes, but I’m bugging her about it).

Things that could possibly go awry with the Cali plan: working visa can be denied, support papers for the student visa could be bloody hard work, might not be granted a scholarship, my mother might change her mind and this whole plan will fall through. I know I’m not being little miss sunshine about this whole thing but as of now the military gig is more feasible.

I should’ve taken computer science in the first place. I should have listened to myself, but then again what will a fifteen year old girl with a sick father do in that situation? Be practical, I suppose.

Oh well, must work with what I have.

Day 8

Shift was a bit slow. I spent a considerable amount of time dawdling and trying to will myself awake.

I was offered that military nursing gig again, and again my mother shot it down. It was a good opportunity too, but then I don’t want to fight my mother.

Sometimes I imagine doing things that are against my mother’s wishes, I usually think that I would feel liberated by my choices, which sounds nice but she could tell me I told you so if things went south. And I hate being told that.

Day 7

Two of our patients died while I was off duty, which is good (the off duty part, not the dying) because I probably would’ve freaked out if I was on duty that day. I just feel bad I wasn’t able to say goodbye to their relatives, I like them,  they are nice people. This whole trauma drama thing is hindering my nursing capabilities, I guess I have to get over it sooner or later.

Good news! I managed to insert an IV cath today. It was on an easy patient, but hey, baby steps.  It backflowed a bit and the line stopped, but I just flushed it. After I consulted my senior of course,  I had a mini panic. That line is fucking precious to me.

I’m getting used to this nursing gig again, which is convenient as of the moment. I am still thinking about changing careers but not yet as I don’t have enough money for that. 

P. S. I got my scissors back.