My bedside table

Well, I don’t really have a bedside table. It’s a desk I purchased used which is long and narrow. On the end close to my bed, I’ve placed an alarm clock and a desk lamp positioned such that it can illuminate my desk workspace or my bed. There’s also enough room for a small stack of books.

I’ve never really been one to read in bed, since by the time I go to sleep, I’m usually quite tired. But my roommate David, who suffers from intermittent mild insomnia, is a big fan of the practice, so I’ve decided to start. My first book to keep at the bedside is a book of Emily Dickenson poetry. (My old college English teacher, Professor Miller, would be pleased. Her literary triumvirate of unparalleled greatness consists of Dickenson, Anton Chekov, and W.B Yeats.)

Here’s one of Dickenson’s I ran across last night.

Success is counted sweetest
by those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory

As he defeated–dying–
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!

This raises several questions in my mind. First of all, there’s poor frail Emily in her starched and rather uncomfortable puritanical garments sitting at her window overlooking a side street of Amherst. What sort of game was she envisioning that involves a team (dressed in purple at that) capturing a flag? And the loser was dying? Come now, Emily!

Then again, maybe this was this a purple-clad army. This could be more plausible, and it actually paints a rather vivid image.

The other thing about Dickenson is that almost all of her poems could be sung to the tune of “Amazing Grace.” There’s the horrible temptation to read them aloud, emphasizing each iamb and pausing at the end of every line. This is dreadful. Try reading the above poem out loud, ignoring the lines and treating the punctuation just as a person might say the words in prose. It’s much more enjoyable!

One last thing I love about Dickenson is her use of approximate rhyme. For example, note the pairing in the second stanza of today and Victory. This gives the diction a richness that strict rhyme would preclude.

Call Day #3

It’s a slow Sunday morning up at the hospital. I’ll be here for another 26 hours or so. So far today, I’ve…

1. Chatted with the other interns who are here today. Also worked on comprehending the creatinine clearance formula, making sure I can cancel all the units.
2. Seen my two patients with whom I’m coming into call.
3. Explored. The tenth floor of the hospital is a smaller floor, only having four call rooms for residents and a conference room. Hence, there are doors on either end of the central hallway which open onto the roof. This would be ideal for sitting in the open air watching a sunset in the vast Texas sky. Unfortunately one of these doors is locked with a wimpy doorknob lock, and the other appears to be connected in with the hospital’s fire alarm system.
4. Done further exploration: a lone staircase on the tenth floor leads up to the eleventh floor, of which only a small landing is accessible. A door with a “High Voltage warning” greets visitors at the landing. The door is, of course, locked, but through a window in the door one can observe a large mechanical room with generators and pipes. Of great interest, however, is that there’s a ladder leading up from the landing to a trapdoor in the roof. Of primary concern is whether this trapdoor, too, would set off the fire alarm. Careful inspection would indicate no. Around this point in my investigation I became a little antsy, so I’ll update you in a future post about this trapdoor and its implications for sunset-watching potential.
5. Written two thank-you notes.
6. Discussed the 401(k) plan with the other interns. Sadly, it would appear that one-year employees are not vested at all for matching contributions.