February 11th, 2003

Nescafe rabbit

A rare thing...

I forget once in a while that Angel doesn't know every symbol in every poem right off the top of his head. I use the dark-winged angel image so rarely, but she's the ancestor of the raven, of the Edgar-Allen-Poe-esque maiden, she of the blade and the midnight hair. And unless I'm mistaken, this is the first one she appeared in...

Night Angel
Wings sweeping blackness and heart made of night
Eyes star-filled emptiness, seething with light
Touch like the night-clouds that lushly drift by
Hair like a filament spun from the sky
Clad in the cloak of a thousand lost dreams
Voice of an angel, and that’s what you seem
Skin palely glowing and pale as the moon
Promising heaven, you bring only doom
Smile like the lightning bolt shot from on high
Swift as the storm clouds now, Night Angel, fly
Fast to the world where the night rules your life
Steal away souls with your gaze like a knife
Bright as thy mourning and cruel as the day
Then like a winter wind take them away
Wings sweeping blackness their hearts will enshroud
Night Angel, bring each to your side in a cloud
Search them with eyes lonely burning and old
You’d know what you sought if your heart weren’t so cold
Night Angel seeking the thing you can’t see
The love of another, Night Angel, for thee.
			NsK 9-27-95

Extra points to anyone who knows who this one was written for...
  • Current Mood
    thoughtful thoughtful
Nescafe rabbit

Open season on interpretations: "il neige"

Bustamante went over 10 minutes again, damn it. And this afternoon I'm to go out to Lutheran for Infectious Diseases. Hope it's fun; I zoned out something awful in the 2 hours of GI lecture today.

Snowflakes flower and grow,
         linger like kisses on lips and eyes,
                They are silent, bright shadows,
falling soft and slow.

                     Winter draws breath, waits,
lets snowflakes dance and fly.
       They are children, as we were 
                              once, long ago.

Ice holds the air in crystal,
            braves the winter breath.
                       Morning lingers, like winter,
Wrapped in silent snow.
                     NsB 11-02-03 "il neige"
Nescafe rabbit

Bidin' my time...

Went to Infectious Diseases. Decided to be a Good Girl and take the stairs to the third floor of the building. Realised I'd forgotten the sheet that told me where I was going. Thought to myself: "It's suite 304. I remember."
There was no Suite 304. Back down the elevator, back out to my car, get the sheet. Suite 305. Back up the stairs, and in. She's not there yet, and neither is Mike. Settle down to wait.
Mike shows up, right on time. We talk for half an hour before the doctor shows up. Infectious diseases.
Mr. H. had a lump, slightly painful, about the size of his hand, on the outside of his leg. His wife: "How do you have a lump that big and not go see a doctor?" Cryptococcus neoformans infection, probably opportunistic because he was on immunosuppressive drugs for his heart transplant. He'll be on antifungals for the rest of his life, now.
Brian is 28, HIV positive. His CD4 count is good, low viral load. He's getting a new job on Monday, as an assistant manager. Check his drugs, order another CD4 count, talk about making sure he takes meds with food so he doesn't get resistant virus. Tolerating the meds really well, feels great.
Torrance is in to check on his liver. HIV positive. His Kaposi's sarcoma is gone, and the antivirals + antibiotics have cleared up his shingles and cellulitis. Friendly, pretty upbeat. Only taking his drugs because he knows if he doesn't he'll get really bad. Like his ex- did. He can't stand the thought of taking them forever.

I walked into the room, both times. I knew before I saw the papers why they were here. Why else would a gay man be in an infectious disease clinic, and I knew they were gay...and I thought about the guys I know. There's a moment of heart-wrenching terror when I hear you talk about meeting someone new, every time. Just a moment of terror. Because I know you think, and I know you're careful... but you just never know.

Mr. H. is 78, and here because of a chronic Pseudomonas UTI. She reviews his meds, asks him to get in a gown so she can examine him. Takes the CT scans with her.
While Mr. H. is changing, she stops in to see Ryan, a second-grader with Apert Syndrome. He, unlike most kids whose skull bones are fused so soon that he has to have operations to let his brain grow, is not retarded. But he is a character. And cute, in a deformed Quasimodo sort of way. Just in to make sure his latest set of sutures is healing properly. And as we're examining him the fire alarm goes off. It's an earsplitting wail, that sends all of our nerves through the roof.
Man in the hall says it's okay, we can stay, false alarm. Back to Mr. H. She goes over the CT scans (I found the radiology report with minimal urinary retention, yay me!) and decides that it's probably a chronic problem that's not going to be very treatable, considering he has prostate enlargement and all. But she's going to work with his urologist on it.
By the time he and his wife are on their way out the door, the alarm has gone off twice more. Once it comes back "evacuate" from the man in the hall, but then stops. The third time, there's nobody to ask. We stay. Dr. N. comes back, looks at us. "You guys look wiped." Mike: "I have permanent hearing loss from that stupid alarm." Dr. N. laughs, and says "It's having a detrimental effect on my patient care." We're looking up Apert on her Handspring when it goes off for a fourth time. Forget it. We're going home. She shooes us out the door.
There is a smoke smell in the hallway on the third floor, but who's worried? I take off for home, get there to find an e-mail from the mortgage lady:
I can meet you tomorrow evening or Friday evening. Unfortuately I will be out of town this weekend at a conference so I would not be able to met you this Saturday.
Tomorrow. Or Friday. Now I'm just waiting for her to call me back like she said she would today. I'm so excited. Please, God, let the house be in good shape...Please, God, let the bank realise that we're a great investment for them to make.
We're taking Lily on a date tonight to see Chicago. And if I want to go, I have to go study now.
  • Current Mood
    bouncy bouncy
Nescafe rabbit

AIEE! *dances madly*

My cell phone rang. Nearly fell off the couch to get it. The bank. Can we do some preliminaries over the phone? Sure, we can do anything over the phone. So I gave her Angel's salary and my student loans. And she clicked some keys. And gave me a pre-approval quote that was half again as much as the house we're looking at. I almost fainted.
Next step: going down to Indy on Friday afternoon to meet her in person. *faints*
And then after that, I suppose we go drive by the house and then we get a showing and an inspection and all. And I'm so freakin' excited! God is so good.
Must study. *breathes* Must study.
  • Current Mood
    ecstatic ecstatic