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Monday
Jan122015

The Veterinarian's 'Twas the Night Before Christmas

From the editor: Keep in mind, this poem was submitted a couple months before Christmas (so it's our fault that it wasn't posted at the appropriate time), and before it gets too far away from the holiday, we thought we better post it now. Marc is no longer a student, but he just recently graduated from University of Edinburgh and thought we'd appreciate this. We hope you enjoy it as much as we do.

Marc Silpa - Edinburgh

Creative Corner - Winner

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ward

Not a creature was stirring, not even the mouse that roared;

The Hartmann’s were hung by the kennels with care,

With hopes that the infusion pumps would not cry air;

The residents were nestled all snug in their beds;

While visions of spring exams tore through their heads;

And the intern in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,

When from our black beepers there arose such a clatter,

We sprang from our beds to see what was the matter.

From the ICU the call came: “Crash, Crash”

Away to the ward we flew in a flash,

Dogual’s chest had stop moving

A blue colour he turned, and he was not improving.

More rapid than eagles the intern’s calls came,

And she whistled, and shouted, and called to us by name,

"Now, intubate! now, bag ‘im! now compression!

On, ECG tags! on, leads! Compression cessation!

To top of the machine! Asystole, ya’ll!

Now press away! press away! press away all!"

As leaves that before wild Scottish gale fly,

When they zip and dance oh so high;

So too the students, nurses and intern flew

Drawing up the atropine too—

And then, in a twinkling, from the ECG

The prancing leaps of the line came in three

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Up came the heart beats with a bound.

His heart—how it thumped! his breaths, how merry!

His gums were like roses, his conjunctiva like a cherry!

Now arrived the senior clinician, out of breath.

For he had hurried, leaving his son’s performance of Macbeth.

We placed the drugs and endotracheal tube on the shelf

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And checked all the vitals; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, a new treatment plan he proposed;

He sprang to his car, and to his vital ICU team gave a whistle,

And away he flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—  

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

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