“There’s no easy way of asking and I already know what he’s gonna say, but maybe he just needs to say it so I ask him anyway. Are you scared? Louis doesn’t even lower his voice when he says “Fuck yeah!”
I listen to a nine year old boy say the word Fuck, like he was a thirty year old man with a nose bleed being lowered into a shark tank, he’s got a right to it and if it takes this kid a curse word to help him get through it, I want to teach him to swear like the devil was sitting there taking notes with a pen and a pad but before I can forget that Louis is nine years old he says: “Please don’t tell my dad.”
He asks me if I believe in angels, and before I realize I don’t have the heart to tell him, I tell him “Not lately,” and I just lay there waiting for him to hate me. But he doesn’t know how to, so he never does. Louis loves like a man who lived in a time before god gave religion to men and left it to them to figure out what hate was.
He never greets me with silence. Only smiles. And a patience I’ve never seen in someone who knows they’re dying. And I’m trying so hard not to remind him, I’ll be out of here in a couple of days, smoking cigarettes and taking my life for granted. And he’ll still be planted in this bed like a flower that refuses to grow, I’ve been with him for five days and all I really know is Louis loves to pull feathers out of his pillow, then watch them float to the ground, almost as if he was the philosopher inside of the scientist ready to say that its gravity that’s been getting us down. But the truth is –there’s not enough miracles to go around kid, and there’s too many people petitioning god for the winning lotto ticket. And for every answered prayer there’s a cricket with arthritis.”
-Shane Koyczan, “The Crickets Have Arthritis”
I thought I would start an introduction to this blog with a quote from one of my favorite poems. It is a spoken word poem from the incredible Shane Koyczan, and the power of the words resonate much more when you listen to the performance. Much like the power of music, finding its power when the words leave the paper and transcend in someone’s mind.
I work in healthcare and often see the sad realities to both of these worlds. This excerpt so poignantly showcases the juxtaposition of the fragility of life and the robust quality as well.
This blog has no agenda other than to share my thoughts and feelings and perhaps gain some perspective from others who may enjoy discussing music, arts, and medicine. Here’s to all the dreamers inside the scientists, enjoy!
Medicine and Music 