Graduate School Update by Keith I continue writing another in a series of poems of protest. Room 101 is a place introduced in the novel Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell. It is a torture chamber in which the Party attempts to subject a prisoner to his or her own worst nightmare, fear or phobia. You asked me once, what was in Room 101. I told you that you knew the answer already. Everyone knows it. The thing that is in Room 101 is the worst thing in the world, OBrien states to Winston, as the novel reaches its climax. Such is the purported omniscience of the state in the society of Nineteen Eighty-Four that even a citizens nightmares are known to the State. The nightmare, and therefore the threatened punishment, of the protagonist Winston Smith is to be attacked by rats. Which is why I used the symbolic image of mice in my last poem. You see when I was fired in less than a minute from the job I so loved, I entered my own version of room 101. When I see what this society has become, Im reminded of room 101. However, I have survived. I am scarred but intact because I am loved and I am an excellent nurse, as well as an artist, poet and writer. I have and will continue my work- to write about nursing, healthcare disparity, economic inequity. I spent thirty years of my life caring for societys outcasts, an AIDS nurse, practicing thug nursing and the next chapter of my life will be spent as PMHNP and nursing scholar studying to obtain my MSN and DON, utilizing my skills as both a nurse and a writer. All I ask of each of you is to read what I write, think about what you read. As my wife and I wrote this week in several posts, we are grateful for all of you who have supported us, carried us through this trying time. Whether it was my colleagues at the House, nurses many who I have mentored, or my fellow poets scattered about the world, and of course I can not forget my friends and family (so many who are artists and healthcare providers), your words of comfort and encouragement will never be forgotten. Todays poem is called, Room 101- HIPPA Nation Room 101- HIPPA Nation (another quiet poem of protest) Room 101 is now at the end of every hallway in every hospital and nursing home every providers office and clinic. in the laptops mounted on the med carts, on every desktop in every station, the cameras discreetly spaced about the place recording and distorting your every action sealing your fate. let your fingers do the walking as they trip, and double click theyre sending information, welcome to the HIPPA nation, as your electronic stumbles punctuate the patients mumbles as the system crashes and crumbles its time to report you to the state. Room 101 is now the med room the brake room and the boardroom. its heaven and its hell for some its a prison cell, for others its the never ending toil that thins your blood and makes it boil, to victor go the spoils. no time for assignations too late for accusations in this electronically driven HIPPA nation I fear Ive written this poem of protest ten years too late.
Posted on: Sat, 21 Jun 2014 14:30:20 +0000
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