.
I just had occasion to spend three days in a hospital intensive care unit (I was working, not being sick, don’t worry). Alarms go off all the time there, all of which look and sound the same to me (basically, like ohmyGod someone’s dying do something right now!). To the nurses, though–big, big differences.
.
October…
blood soaking
into the test strip
.
Most of the alarms bore the nurses. They barely look up when the beeping starts. Even when there’s, like, a red flashing alert on the monitor about someone’s heartbeat being all out of whack. The nurses know what kind of out of whack is really worrisome and what kind is the monitor being, frankly, kind of a worrywart.
.
October—my brittle teeth surprise me by not breaking
.
When it’s a real alarm, though, they move. You look up and the nurse who was sitting two feet away from you half a second ago is nowhere in sight. Where’d she go? To check on Mr. Darby.
.
October
the side view mirror
breaks off in my hand
.
How do they know? I kept wondering. I never know. I never know what to worry about. All the alarms sound the same. And the world is full of alarms. (Have you noticed that? Or is it just me?)
.
October
I quickly throw my life
into a suitcase
.
.
Red Dragonfly 
Sheer genius and absolutely spot on – there are two too many alarms in this world, including me 🙂
Thanks, alarmingman. 😉
Many years ago I worked on an OR intensive care unit. You get to know the patients. There are some crews that are better than others at this. Some hospitals better than others.
the fallen leaf
depends upon the soil
becomes the soil
That’s a great haibun, Merrill. 🙂
hey, Melissa. Good one.
Merrill is, as usual, being gracious. I can testify along with her that some crews are better than other. Some alarms, and cries for help, are real and unanswered or not answered for a very long time.
We are all far short of perfection, givers and receivers.
And some alarms are not heard at all.
Oh, I know, Mark. I’ve been a patient myself at other times. This crew did seem to know what they were doing, though. I would like to have their skill at discernment. Or any skill at discernment, really.
I know what you mean about discernment. I prefer liking over disliking for that reason–you never know when you might not be getting it.
for the record, the (above) comment to which you responded must be by an imposter poster. I like to think I’m not that whiny. How they hacked my email account is a mystery. Might as well let the rascal continue with the charade. He/she will tire of it soon enough.
I get hacked like that every night around bedtime by someone who sounds like a cranky three-year-old running on too little sleep. Haven’t figured out yet how to make her go to bed instead of staying up annoying my friends with her emails.
You are surely a more satisfying hack than I am. I mean, you have Followers who find you fascinating, for goodness sake. Why anyone would want to impersonate me is a mystery…
[hear that, hobgoblins? {not now, wait until i post} ]
Wait. Wait. Who are these Followers? This sounds vaguely ominous. Should I be watching my back?
I think I meant to write, “Flower in your gone sake,” a Japanese toast and ward against paranoia.
My new favorite toast.