QUORUM

The tiny, insignificant ones seem to drift aimlessly through the ether.  They are an entire universe; each one is like a clone of the other, at least from the outside.  They work differently inside, however. 

They are spread out, far and wide.  Very few of them actually find one another.  When they do, they greet and move on.  They seem to be waiting, waiting for something so huge, that none of them really comprehends it.  Not that they ever could grasp the enormity of such a thing – I merely say it in the spirit of wit. 

Suddenly, it happens.  One of them receives a message.  It is over-excited, but this is a natural reaction.  It moves in randomized fashions, eager to pass on the message.  The others surrounding it sense that something is changing.  The little one passes the signal to those who are receptive to it.  All of a sudden – the signal is permeating them like ink in water. 

The little ones are good at passing messages to one another.  Very soon, the word is out, and they are united.  They begin to converge at the gates of a giant world they cannot yet understand, for they are still little ones. 

O, medical schools!  Heed us, the quorum of hopefuls!  

 We are pre medical students, and we have amassed at your door.

An Offer I Can’t Refuse

 

 Today me and 214 other lucky students recieved an offer to interview at the Griffith University Medical School.  I’m so happy -this was my first preference!  The interviews are next month, so wish me luck!

 Congratulations everyone who received an interview invitation this cycle.

One Sick Little Girl – Part III

  

Part Three – Code Blue

What do they mean, I could have it?  I feel fine. Gemma – she went down like a lead balloon. 

What is this pill?

Why is my pee turning red?

* * * * * * * * * *

 I was vaccinated.  Someone decided that if anyone was going to go down with the meningitis it would be me, the susceptible pre-teen.  While they tried to divert me with treatment, they discussed the issue of Gemma’s septic feet. 

The black had spread further.

* * * * * * * * * *

If I never see this stupid waiting room again in my LIFE I will be happy.

I’m hungry.

When the hell is she going to wake up?

* * * * * * * * * *

I was drifting somewhere between boredom and sleep, when my mum stormed into the waiting room and sat down hard on one of the chairs.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, relieved that she seemed mad and not…something else.

“That surgeon in there is what’s wrong.  Fucking bastard.”

I was momentarily stunned.

“Why, what’d he say?  I didn’t even know there was one there.”

Dad walked into the room and sat next to her.

Now her tears came.  “He wants to amputate.  He wants to cut off her feet.  She’s a dancer!”

Mother’s Blood

 

 The knife clatters gently as it hits the chopping board.

“Shit, Vince!” my mother cries, and I turn in my chair to see what the problem is.  Cradling her left hand with her right, she turns to the sink in the kitchen.  There is a small drop of blood on the blade of the knife she is using.  Thinking she had nicked her finger, I walk over to see the cut, but my view is blocked by her and my father.

“Open it,” my father says calmly as he sees her hand is closed.

“God, no!  I can’t open it,” mum says through clenched teeth.  There is an urgency in her voice.

“Let me see,” I say, jostling for a better view.

“Oh God, I’m going to faint.  Look at the blood, Vince!“ 

My father reaches for the tap, but it’s then that I catch a glimpse of my mum’s hand – blood is spiling over the sides of the cup of her hand.

“Move, get out of the way!” I say, and push my dad away from the sink.  “I need to open your hand to see it, just quickly,” I reassure mum.  When I pull back her thumb, the blood takes a second to pour from the wound, but it takes long enough for me to see the flesh.  There is a severed muscle, a nerve, and the beginning of a bone.  Then the blood comes.  Quickly I clamp her thumb back into the palm of her hand and press hard on it.  She cries out in pain.  Afraid that she will collapse and cause further damage to the hand, I slowly guide her to the floor, which is wet with blood.

“Dad, give me some bandages quickly, we need to take her to the hospital.”

Dad rummages around for bandages, but he’s not seen the severity of the wound, and he is moving slowly.

“Come on!  A bit of speed, here!“

After a quarter of an hour, we are at the hospital and the hand is being seen to.  There will be surgery tonight, but nobody can pinpoint on what exactly, even though I have followed the case with them from the beginning.  The neuro test looked good apart from some parasthesia on the lateral aspect of the index finger.  The x-ray looks clear for damage to the bone.  When she is initially admitted, I walk behind the wheelchair and let my adrenaline subside.  I look down at my hands, crimson with blood.

Mother’s blood.

The Birds

Bastard magpies! 

For those of you who read my last post, you will note that I hate birds and like reptiles.  Here’s why:

I was innocently walking to class today when I was ambushed by magpies.  One of them even pecked me on the head.

I will take a rifle with me everywhere I go, now.