Sweet dreams.

"Hey, there. . . " Give a gentle shoulder shake. ". . .hey there, sir. . .it's Dr. Manning."

"Errrrrrrrrrr." Tossing. Grumbling. Hunkering into covers. In that good kind of rapid-eye-movement sleep.

"I'm sorry to wake you. . . "

Opens one eye over shoulder. "Awww, hey there, Miss Mannings." Pops up in bed. "Whew! That's okay. I'm waking up now."  Rubs eyes. Big smile. With a stretch.

Big smile back. "Hey back. How are you?"

"Good. 'Cause I was dreamin'."

"How's your symptoms?"

"The same, not better. But not worser."

"Really?"

"Yeah. . . ."

This hand dealt to him was not a good one. A bad diagnosis complicated by a bad social situation. Get you better only to discharge you to a shelter where everyone is doing the bad things that landed you in this predicament.

Damn.

Look in your eyes. Feel your neck. Reach deep in your armpit for possible lymph nodes. Feel your heart with flat palm and then listen to it. Please sit up. Deep breaths, okay? Next the bowel sounds, fast and gurgly. Palpate your belly, skinny and scaphoid. Does that hurt? Inspect your skin. Feel your pulses. Then grab your hand with brown finger tips from cigarettes.

"Your test is coming up this afternoon, that's why they didn't give you a tray."

"That's cool."

"Did you have questions about it?"

Still rubbing eyes. "No'm. I'm good."

"Okay."

Stand there for a few seconds. What to say next?

"Sir?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"What can I do for you this morning?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"Just let me fall back asleep so I can get back to that dream." Sighs with big smile and closed eyes. "'Cause everything was good in that dream. Everything."

Staring for  moment. "I can do that."


Walk to the door. Look back at my patient. Getting closer to being discharged. Almost better, but not really. Same but not worser might be the only attainable goal.


"Lights on or off?"


"Lights off. Thanks."


***
 Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . .

Dream babies

children of night

what do you dream?

Is anything real?

Or does it just seem?

Is everything wrong?

Is anything right?

What do you dream, babies, tonight?

Where do you go in your dreams--can you fly?

Do you ride any rainbows--touch at the sky?

Or do you find yourself nowhere--do you see yourself alone?

What do you see in your dreams--way up high?

Do you find pretty patterns catching your eye?

Or do you find yourself falling?

Do you wake up with a cry?

Dream babies

Children of night

What do you dream?

Is anything real?

Are your dreams made of colors?

Or just black and white?

Is anything right?

What do you dream, babies, tonight?

~ from the Broadway Musical, The Me Nobody Knows, 1971