Franks Psychiatry 4 #45: duck chocolate and Tapas

we're opening
with tapas
but I don't know what tapas is

 

in a faux-spanish restaurant
there are seven of us
eight
a small gathering
drawing breath
in the middle of a crowded week

 

and it begins with a platter
of marinated ribs
some sort of fried calamari rings
cheese and special-sauce potatoes

olives

 

they call it tapas

 

~

 

a mother
out near seymour
on the edge of the catchment
is staring at her meal

 

the food tonight
came out of the freezer
but it wasn't touched
by either of them

 

it's been pushed now
towards the centre
of the dining room table

 

she's still dressed in her better clothes
hasn't changed
it was a long trip to the hospital
and she's too weary to bother

 

the boy
her young man
was a mess today
still so

 

sick
strange

 

frightening

 

she thinks

 

thank god he's in the inpatient unit
but what are they doing for him
he isn't getting any better
what can they do

 

this is the worst
it's ever been

 

what's going to happen

 

she cries silently
and knows even as she weeps
that she's the strongest of them
it will destroy her husband

 

she is the stronger
and she is weeping

 

wishes they hadn't visited
perhaps it will be better
tomorrow

 

~

 

the deep red
is a delicious warmth
and the conversation flows

 

a joke about the service

 

a word about the practice of medicine

 

thoughtful comment
on the demography of the area
how we differ
from the adjoining catchments
rural versus metropolitan

 

familiar faces pass by
to settle at neighbouring tables
and there's a comfort to be found
a sense of belonging in this place
on this evening

 

our rural city seems
undisturbed by the fall of night
the waiter has removed the tapas
platter empty
and now

 

we're now waiting for the mains
it’s all very pleasant

 

the last olive
was mine

 

~

 

things are jumping
on the unit

 

it's full up
no beds
but there's another patient
with an overdose
a psychosis
drug-related
anorexic
old

 

something

 

it doesn't really matter what
there's always another one
and tonight there'll be a blue about it
the night shift aren’t happy with the triage team
and they make a stand

 

if you want to leave another patient with us
you better find extra staff
because we haven't got enough
and we won't do it

 

I don't care who says so
we've got enough to do
keeping that young yahoo you just brought in
under control

 

if there's no extra staff
there's no going over-numbers

.

.

.

.

 

okay 
welcome aboard for the night shift

 

don't worry 
the manager can sort it out 
tomorrow

 

our job is to keep that crazy bugger
under some sort of control

 

~

 

chocolate duck is an unusual dish
rich and rewarding

 

our table is silent now
almost

 

there's only the clinking of cutlery
an occasional appreciation
and the sound of an ambulance
disappearing into the distance

 

idle thoughts
idle thoughts
I always stray back to the job

 

the petty worries I can do nothing about
but can't help over-working

 

the main dishwasher
in the unit’s kitchen
has broken down
what will it do to the budget
if I replace it

 

is there a choice
nope

 

perhaps I should raise the salary level
of the new nurse
he's working out well enough

 

they'll be short-staffed in the morning
the roster's deficient
I hope someone's put their hand up
to fill in for the absentees

 

I wonder if the sickies are real
or just bludging

 

might need some help with that one

 

fingers crossed the boy from seymour
doesn't cause too much grief
he'll be a bugger till we can get the drugs
out of his system

 

his drugs out
our drugs in

 

oh well

 

it's all pointless
I can't do anything until tomorrow
and talk at our table is starting up again

 

this has been a nice way
to end the day
duck
chocolate
tapas and all

 

I still don't know
what tapas means but
I might get to work it out
tomorrow

 

~