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Psychiatric Times
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We fled the computer room like inmates after lightning fries the prison fence. Then we rounded with nurses who knew the doses and what made patients moan...
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We fled the computer room like inmates
after lightning fries the prison fence.
Then we rounded with nurses who knew
the doses and what made patients moan,
wrote SOAP notes with pens,
our findings compressed like sonnets.
We sat at bedsides and absorbed each story,
comforted families, took time to teach residents
and share their burdens. Elated to eat lunch,
we compared cases with colleagues and gave
curbside consults. Finished before sunset,
charts and patients tucked in, we cruised home
to partners eager to hear the stories,
their mirrored smiles the notes our progress.