hot time in the olde clinic today

temperatures this afternoon were in the 30s, with a higher number for humidex, perhaps 39 degrees Celsius

unfortunately,  the a/c unit for the clinic failed and both our afternoon crew and the morning crew fried

my dialysis is the longest at 4.5 hours, even though I wore shorts and a T-shirt, it was scalding in the dialysis chair, after forty minutes I was wondering if I mght pass out.  One of the nurses went down to the kitchen and came back with a resupply of ice.  I slipped ice chips down the front of my t-shirt, and later poured melted ice-water on to the washcloth that had been trying to cool me off with a dunk in some cold tap water.

The nurses looked pretty limp after the long oven shift, they were there from just before 7 am.

I asked one of the other dialysis patients if he was well done or just medium.

He said, “You can sure stick a fork in me.”

Repairs do not look iminent, apparently several electrical surges did the nasty to the electric motor and so Thursday patients both AM and PM will have a rough time.  The weather is supposed to breal cooler by Friday morning. I sure hope that cooler front does not slow down and arrives as forecast..  I  thought I might pass out or vomit from the heat, but I  dragged through.

There was an a/c problem last year.  The hospital was trumpeting how it balanced its budget.  I guess that didn’ include heavy duty preventive maintenance on that a/c unit, let alone a replacement.

One blessing, the rest of the hospital full mainly of geriatric patients, was a/c cooled all right, so those patients were comfortable.


poem, new – “daring”


You are a long way away, Einstein far.
I am a new man and old, creaky old,
fossil in the dry river bed old,
And meaner in all kinds of ways.

You were never
this sick and never this impatient with the planet. Right.
I have perfected my snarl.  I am the old wounded
groundhog of legendary fame.  You are still Stinkerbelle

flown to another dimension, but your shadow hangs around
staring from the wall by my window.  The one I will wash next year.
You talked like a machine gun
and lit the noon jealous with your smile.

We were not made for each other.
It was a long cartwheeling car crash of an affair, looked
terrific on the movie screen right up until
we both choked on our popcorn.

Glad I escaped your clutches, the ones you used
to throw me over your shoulder on your way out the door
aiming for new toys, a better life
and another matched set of disappointments.

All we have is our past staring us in the face
daring us to blink.

poem Visitations



The beginning of the wind found the surface of the bay

Touched it, touched my face. At the end of the day

Sharing the shore with two crows and an old hound mix.

I knew that dog, white and tan, a grinning dog.

All spring and into summer, she walked down the road

carrying her growing litter of pups.


She’d stop under our steps in the shaded, cool sand

roll and snort and kick, take an hour’s sleep

and then turn down the road and walk her way

back to the village.


The crows feathers shone like oil, like ink.

They hopped a bit then flew to the roof

to study the local opportunities.


September 1993