Another Night in the ER
I see the ones who say they are suicidal. That claim guarantees an overnight: a metal bed with a black foam pad, a clean sheet, turkey on white wrapped in cellophane and, if there’s any left, a precious six-pack of Oreos.
I see the ones who say they are suicidal. That claim guarantees an overnight: a metal bed with a black foam pad, a clean sheet, turkey on white wrapped in cellophane and, if there’s any left, a precious six-pack of Oreos.
Caroline Wellbery
In the middle of a five-way thoroughfare intersection, with the early-morning sun’s glare on my windshield, I hit the curb of the median and blew out my left front tire. Amid stopped traffic, I ran to collect my escaped hubcap, whose silver eye stared helplessly from among the automotive debris of previous accidents.
A policeman blocked the lanes until I could pilot my car into the gas station on the other side of the street. The attendant perched behind the bulletproof window told me that his mechanics wouldn’t be in until 9:00 am. I called the clinic to say I’d be late to work, but no one picked up the phone.
Remya Tharackal Ravindran
About the artist:
Remya Tharackal Ravindran is an internist/geriatrician based in Massachusetts. “Photography is my dose of meditation in action. It straps me to the present moment and forces me to look, rather than merely see. Sometimes we are blinded to things that are staring us in the face, until we begin to ‘look.’”
About the artwork:
“This picture was taken during a regular office visit. This puppy, the constant companion of one of my disabled patients, was snug in the handbag as usual, waiting beside the patient’s daughter. Though the puppy’s stomach was growling with hunger, it stayed in the bag throughout the visit, waiting for me to finish the physical exam. Perhaps her patience with the doctor was a reflection of her devotion to her ‘master.’ “
Visuals editor:
Justin Sanders
If I wake up in the middle of the night, that’s what time it will be, give or take 15 minutes: 4 a.m. No matter what the season, it’s dark at that time of night, it’s lonely, even the cats are snoring. If a window is open, I can hear if an owl, a coyote or, rarely, a whippoorwill or chuck-will’s-widow is crying into the night. If it’s a warm autumn night, I can hear if passing whitetail bucks grunt or click while tracking does.