an itinerant observer

~ Act II ~   A Letter to the Father Who Returned   Dear Father, You came back to the ER yesterday. Alone. Your eyes searched for the place where your children had been, as though the walls might still hold their shadows. You wandered, lost, and when the tears came, they came quietly at first; grief without sound, until they could no longer be contained. I stood there, silent, because what can you say in the face of such loss? Your grief took me back to 2019, when another father arrived; with his five children, also victims of phosphine poisoning. They had come to Karachi from Quetta on a short vacation, staying in a modest guesthouse. No one knew that a cheap fumigant, silently seeping through the rooms, had already marked them. They were Dead On Arrival (DOA in our lingo). Five small bodies laid side by side, from the youngest, a baby, to the oldest, a teenager. I remember the starched white sheets, how they barely moved as we covered those bodies. I remember dr...

Prologue I thought I’d prepared myself. My last shift in the ER, after 13 years, landed on Friday the 13th - the most infamous day on the calendar. It felt like a joke the universe was playing, so I leaned into it. I imagined the absurdities, the chaos, the dark humor that define life in a pediatric ER. I even wrote about it preemptively, anticipating the madness. But the universe had more to offer. What I thought would be a final hurrah of irrationality turned into something far heavier. A father, a family, a tragedy that echoed through time. This is my farewell to the ER in two acts. Act I – The chaos I expected. Act II – The weight I couldn’t see coming.   ~ Act I ~ 13 Years, Friday the 13th, and the Madness of the ER Coincidence or predestiny? After nearly 13 years of adrenaline-fueled chaos, sleepless nights, and a steady diet of chai and calamity, my last ER call lands squarely on the unluckiest day of the calendar. I could’ve chosen to laugh, but ...

[Doodle credit: ChatGPT-4] In a small, friendly town, there lived a lively girl named Ada. Her ninth birthday was coming up, and her parents planned a big celebration with balloons, cake, and lots of decorations. Ada was super excited, especially when she received a special stuffed toy from her best friend, Nunu. After the fun party, everyone helped clean up. Chike and Mama were busy tidying up, while Baba played games with Ada’s little brother, Kunle. Ada and her kitten, Biloongra, played outside, laughing and having a great time. “Fetch the toy, Biloongra!” Ada shouted, throwing the toy. It flew up and got stuck in a tree. Ada loved climbing trees, so she decided to climb up and get it. But as she reached for the toy, the branch snapped, and Ada fell to the ground. Nunu heard Ada’s cry and quickly got Mama. Mama came running and gave Ada a big hug. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked. “My leg hurts,” Ada replied, tears in her eyes. Mama called for an ambulance, and soon,...

Ready to traverse a landscape rich with human emotion, ethical quandaries, and the quest for meaning amidst chaos? ‘ Poems from the (ER) Pit’ offers a glimpse into this world, not through clinical case studies, but through the visceral medium of poetry. Each poem illuminates diverse facets of emergency care. Through poetry I navigate the emotional, ethical, and philosophical terrains of emergency medicine. This collection, more than a series of poetic expressions, is a call to reflect, to empathize, and to act. It invites you into the heart of emergency care, challenging you to see beyond the clinical to the deeply human(e) side of healing. ******************************************************** In the dim light of dawn, a child’s battle ends, not with triumph, but with silence. This moment, captured in “C’est La Vie” is a stark reminder of emergency medicine's raw reality. The poem serves as a prelude, inviting us to confront life’s precariousness and the profound impact of...