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[29 Apr 2004|02:15am] |
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Well, folks, I decided to finally update my own journal with random news. I just woke up from what seemed like a three day long nap. We had a deluge of patients. An endless stream of bodies. I was on triage at one point and literally had to put a guy with a partially severed arm on the waiting list. He simply wasn't in the worst shape. Had I been in a hospital in Boston, I could have saved the arm. Instead, I had to try to explain to a scared kid from Houston why he no longer had a right arm.
Still, the sleep helped me feel better somewhat. I mean, it's never all that good. How can it be when you are sleeping for hours and hours to make up for the fact that you haven't had any for four days? It's not exactly relaxing sleep.
And the dreams were very disturbing. No, they weren't about blood, death and despair. I don't have to dream about that.
No, I dreamed about Carly. The same dream I always have. We're laying in bed. Her hair is falling softly around her face and she is laughing at something I've said. And I reach out to touch her face. And right before I touch her smooth, white cheek, she melts out of reality. She's replaced with an empty cold bed. The same bed that I wake up in every day.
I know it can't work out. But damn it still hurts.
So, I'm glad to be awake again, but I'm bored. It doesn't take long for you to get to that state around here. You're either agonizingly busy or mind-blowingly bored.
Maybe I'll go to the Officer's Club.
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[25 Dec 2003|08:26pm] |
Do you feel that you were born with a predetermined role in society?
I'm gonna have to go with a hell no on that one. I mean, I guess you could say that society puts certain limits on people, but every person decides what to do with themselves. I'm not saying that it always goes the way you plan it. I chose to be a doctor. And because of that choice, I am stuck in a 24 hour hell. Some kids that come through here chose to leave their families in order to see the world and make something of themselves and they end up covered in their own blood and up to their ears in mud, rats and filth.
And of course, you have to deal with other people's choices as well. North Korea chose to make war on South Korea and thus the US chose to make war on N. Korea and China on S. Korea. Now what we have is a bunch of suits in faraway buildings playing games with living pieces.
So no, I don't think I was born to be who I am. I chose this life and as bad as it is now, at least I can rest at night knowing that it's mine.
Oh and Merry Christmas to all those that can find it in themselves to celebrate.
Hawk
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[14 Dec 2003|10:59am] |
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Well, it occurs to me that I haven't really given you all a proper introduction of myself. Last night was bad, it always is after hours and hours of meatball surgery. But that's over for now.
My name is Benjamin Franklin Pierce, but I prefer to be called Hawkeye. I got the name from my dad. It's a character from The Last of the Mohicans, his favorite book. My mom died when I was very young. I still miss her, but I didn't want for anything growing with such a great dad. I miss him more than anything right now.
I come from the greatest little town that ever existed, Crab Apple Cove, Maine. It's one of those little hamlets where everyone knows your name and you can't rearrange your furniture without it making the daily news. I used to think I wanted to leave the slow, nosy town to live the life of a big city surgeon, but now, after all this, I would like nothing more than to spend my days treating little kids for head colds and their pretty mothers for loneliness.
So, yes, I am a doctor, a surgeon to be exact. I was meticulously trained in surgery in Boston, only to spend that knowledge trying to come up with a whole person to sew back together in this damned "military action" in Korea. Military aciton, my rear admiral. It's a war. But I won't talk anymore about that now.
That's all I have time for at the moment. We're expecting a bunch of wounded soldiers. Can you believe that? Usually when people know that lots of people are going to be hurt, they try to prevent it. Not here. Here, they destroy as many as possible and we try desperately hard to keep up.
Oh god, there's the choppers.
BFP
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