Break Time >> Nursing Humor >> Nurses are writers too: Poetry & Stories
Nurses are writers too: Poetry & Stories
6 posts back to top |
Posted over 3 years ago Ok guys, I know it's in you. How many of you have been inspired by your experiences to write about it? Here's one of mine:
|
|
Account Removed 
-33 posts back to top |
| Posted over 3 years ago hmmm, good question. I think it's geological info systems or something like that(?) |
|
6 posts back to top |
| Posted over 3 years ago Geoscience is an area of natural science that includes all the other sciences, but especially Geography and Geology. Since it includes environmental conditions that effect, and are effected by humans, I think it relates quite nicely with my nursing background. GIS is Geographical Information Systems. It is an ability to attach a geodatabase to a map. It's the technical way that cartographers like me can now use maps with that attached databases to analyze geographical issues with demographics to include population, trends, timelines, and instances and directions (movement) of things, like for example, a pandemic. It will also make pie charts or other forms of statistical options and reports to help you give presentations of your studies. You can attach pictures, as well, and even has a 3-D Analysis option that allows you to make moving videos from it as you move your mouse from site to site. You can see examples of GIS in Google Earth, the Weather maps, Census, FEMA, and even the Yellow pages or Maptech. To learn more about GIS go to esri.com. You can obtain a free 60 day trial and the websites has sections on there to teach you for free how to use it for the basics. It's a great tool in nursing to analyze effects and variances of conditions surrounding your environment, and CDC is using it. Free information for your databases can be obtained from a variety of govt. sites such as factfinder, census.gov, your state geological websites, and even ESRI has several links to helps. Much of the time you can just google what info you're looking for and add "gis" to it, to get the databases or online maps. Glad you asked.
Love me just as I am (Classical Ballad, slow with feeling, T=84; 6/8 time Love, is not an open book, read by everyone; It’s mysterious, so serious; Desired, by all. Love is like fusion, that creates a star; It becomes an explosion, that spreads out, so far. So many try to catch it; They try by force to own it; It constantly eludes them; They must realize—that you cannot devise— What can only come from—the heart. Love, it has no boundaries, neither, does it make, Anyone; change themselves; But loves who they are. When two come together, they fuse—as one. Satisfied by no other, and break not apart. Have patience for each other; We’ll always make mistakes; I cannot claim perfection; You must accept me as I am. Though I, have not been right, and I have bro-ken your heart, I promise you, that I love you, Forever, though apart. I did not know how, to, express you, my heart, My words and my actions, they ripped us apart. All I can say is sorry, I cannot even change it, And hope that you forgive me. Darling my love---Can you give me hope----? And love me----Just----as----I -----am? copyright 2009 RG |
|
6 posts back to top |
| Posted over 3 years ago
When I was lonely When I was lonely, and my life long love was gone; I thought it was beyond me, that I’d ever love again; With no one there beside me, my future’s rather dim; Standing all alone, against the fates I cannot win; How can I bear this all alone? My heart is broken, and I can’t go on… (Refrain: You are my brother, my sister, my friend; You helped me live my life with faith and hope again; Just when I needed, someone with understanding; You were the answer, you became my family; A man is not made to face life as only one; He needs support to face the problems that come.) It seemed impossible, as I looked around my home; The emptiness was pressing, there’s no one to call my own. With no one there to talk to, I’d given up on life; I’d lost a very part of me, when I’d lost my wife. How can I bear this all alone? My heart is broken and I can’t go on… Repeat Refrain I made a big mistake; I tried to find one just like her; It wasn’t real though, we both just ended hurt; There’s no two just alike, you’ve got to open up your heart; If she tries to be somebody else, she’ll eventually fall apart; How can I bear this all alone? My heart is broken, and I can’t go on… Repeat Refrain You made me see that, what I really needed now: Was a friend who’d stand beside me, to be me, you would allow; There’s more to life than one way; it’s all so beautiful; You taught me open up my mind, and I would see it all around me; I don’t have to be alone; With you beside me, I know I can go on….. Repeat Refrain This was written during a moment of empathy for a man I saw suffering from his loss. Sometimes during the time of grieving, people may not feel up to cooking or eating because they are so empty. It helps to go visit them, and let them know you are still their friend. Taking a hot meal to them helps keep their nutrition status up too, and stay with them to encourage them to eat. Recently we've had a couple of elderly ladies that died in town. It was not discovered until several days, even a week in one case that they had expired. This was because the neighbors don't visit regularly and they did not have family or friends to call in on them. We keep constantly in touch with our local neighbors and vice versa. You never know when you might need each other. This neighborhood kind of Health Watch would help more people if most people were involved. Several years ago during a heat wave in France, over 2000 people were reported as dead. Most, they reported, were elderly because no one bothered to check on them. People thought the government would. Ponder that one. The government is going to check on your neighbor? Tell that to the people who suffered through Hurricane Katrina. We need to do it, and encourage others to do so also. |
|
6 posts back to top |
| Posted over 3 years ago Turning your attention off your illness and pain can help make it seem as if it has lessened. As nights can become tedious and long, even for some patients, I sometimes would find myself sitting with them sharing stories back and forth to help create a more relaxed atmosphere. Adults like stories too.
The Hoosat and the Country Hick Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived on the far side of the woods. His name was Sir, for his father had always wanted a “title” name in the family. It made it quite easy for people to appear to show respect for Sir, after all, if they answered “no” or “yes,” there was always the possibility of saying his name, Sir, after it. One day, Sir decided to take a hike in the woods to search for Snipes. Now Snipe hunting was a big thing in those days in Indiana. It takes a big stick and a bag in order to find those elusive Snipes. And usually, it’s done at night. Being a pretty smart boy, Sir made sure he got himself a nice strong burlap bag, and a sturdy hickory stick. Then he packed some corn bread and butter, a big piece of his mother’s apple pie, a couple of baking potatoes, and some left-over baked beans with bacon and onions in a tin, a canteen of water, put on his moccasins and left word with his father that he was going out. “Aren’t you supposed to go Snipe hunting at night, Sir?” His father asked. “Well, I figure that no one ever caught themselves a Snipe at night, so I’m going to go out in the day, build me a tent out in the woods, then watch carefully for those Snipes while they don’t know I’m a looking,” he answered his father back. “Well just make sure you get your chores done before you go out. The cows get ornery if’n you don’t milk them on time,” his father said, shaking his head. “It’s already done, father,” answered Sir as he left for the woods. Sir walked, while smacking his big hickory stick this way and that at the shrubs and trees as he passed them. There had already been a pretty good path made by his brothers, so he just used that path so he would not get lost. After a while, when he finally was satisfied that he had come far enough to get near some good Snipe hunting area, he set down his food and began to build a make-shift tent using an axe the way his brothers had taught him. “It was known as a wigwam,” his brothers had explained to him. “They make a temporary shelter from sticks and bark while they are out hunting.” Sir searched until he found a long branch that was sturdy, yet bendable so he could make an arch. He continued finding similar branches, making his arched framework for his wigwam. Then he used his axe to cut off bark from trees and carefully overlaid the framework with the bark. He wished he had had some hide to go over it, or a nice mat for inside, but satisfied himself with some dry leaves to make the bedding inside instead. After he was finished, he used his pole to dig a trench around the wigwam, and then directed it downhill and away from it. This was so in case it rained, the rain would pool away from his wigwam. Then he cleared away some brush, and began to take some sticks and set them kind of teepee like form to start a fire. As the fire embers began to glow, and then burst into flames, Sir piled on more sticks, then finally small logs he had cut from fallen trees lying around him. He pulled out his potatoes and pushed them under the logs, then pulled out all the food from the tin. Sir poured the beans with bacon and onions back into the tin from a ceramic container he had had them in and set the tin upon the burning logs to cook. Sir leaned back against a log as he watched the last glowing rays of the sun turn bright orange, then red, causing the clouds over the setting sun to glow with a warm iridescent pink as it went down. The whippoorwills began to sing back and forth to each other. Sir chimed in, puckering his lips to sing their repetitive song. “Whippoorwill, whippoorwill, whippoorwill,” he whistled. The birds sung back at him, louder and louder. Crickets began to chirp by rubbing their legs together, and frogs croaked from the nearby stream. The woods became an orchestra of a myriad of animals, playing their most natural instruments, playing the voices of the woods. Sir kept watching as he ate his beans, corn bread, potatoes, and apple pie. His eyes began to feel heavy, so he got up several times to try to shake the fatigue out. Suddenly, there was a strange grunt, and the forest orchestra stopped. Sir stood up, his back tense as he peered into the darkness, the only light from his flickering fire flames that created grotesque moving shadows as they danced in the night. Another grunt sounded. “Hoosat?” A voice from the dark asked. “Sir!” Sir answered. “Who is you?” he asked back. “Hoos Sir?” The voice asked back. “Sir is me.” Sir answered. “Who is you?” He asked again. “Wha you mean ‘Sir is me’” the voice asked, getting closer. Several ‘snaps’ sounded as the voice continued to edge closer to the fire. “I mean, I’m Sir, sir. Who is you?” Sir asked again, standing by now with his axe in hand feeling apprehensive. “Well now, Hoosier. Me thinks ya’s a bit uppity on yourself wanting to be called ‘Sir.’ Sir is who ya aught’n to be callin me.” A man with a big pack on his back finally surfaced from behind the trees. “Why ya is just a lil whippersnapper. And ya thinkin I should be callin ya ‘Sir?’” “That’s my name,” Sir answered back, tilting his head a little to the side as he eyed the bearded man. My father named me Sir.” “Well now,” the man pondered as he rubbed his bearded face and winked at Sir. “Then I’s guess ya can call me Hick.” “Is that your name?” Sir asked. “That’s what they all call me.” The man answered. I’m called a country Hick. So now I’m known as just Hick. Hick settled his back pack down, began taking some things out of it and began setting camp for himself. “I supposed ya don’t mind if I make camp here by your fire. Your father is Joseph, ain’t he?” “How you know that?” Sir asked. “Well, cuz he comes during fall time with the hides to have me make the shoes for winter.” “And how you know that?” Sir asked. “Cuz I recognize that axe of yours. That’s got your daddy’s mark. What ya doin out here anyhow?” Hick asked. “I’m gonna get me some Snipes,” Sir answered. “Ya are?” The big bushy eyebrows raised on Hick as his laughing blue eyes gazed across the camp fire at Sir. “How ya gonna catch em?” “I got me a stick and a big burlap bag. I’ve been here since fore sundown so I think I’ve got a good chance to find them.” “Ya see any?” Hick asked, pulling some hard bread apart and stuffing it into his mouth before setting a tin coffee pot on the logs. Hick poured some grounds from a bag, then some water in the pot before placing a lid on it. “The only thing I’ve caught tonight is a ‘Hoosat,’” Sir answered, looking down sulkingly. “Aw!” Hick smiled at Sir in a friendly manner and winked again. “Don’t fret. Ya would be the first if’n ya ever saw one.” “Why’s that?” Sir asked. “Cuz only thing out here sides animals is a Hoosier,” Hick answered. And thus, when Sir when home the next day, he gladly reported to his family that he discovered a new type of vermin in the woods of Indiana. “It’s called a Hoosier,” he told them proudly. “And they is only in Indiana.” Short Story Rebekah Green July 3, 2009 |
