Caught in the current
R. Lee Kirby, MD
CMAJ 1999;161:1503
Lorraine. I think that was your name.
Introduced by chance; only a few words passed
between us.
I, the first white coat on the scene;
you, the object of a misnamed (but sadly prescient)
"code blue" at the Rehab,
lay in a tangle on the floor of the gym,
your rheumatoid arthritis having robbed you
of the canes that might have saved you.
A goose egg on your forehead, the overlying skin
thin, translucent, torn like wet paper.
Blood, from another tear on the back of your hand,
had soaked the cuff of your sleeve.
Your hip, as we all feared, was broken.
Your fate sealed in the instant that you swayed too far,
You were caught in the current and swept downstream,
by probabilities you must have suspected.
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