This isn’t art-fully presented (yet perhaps), but a sketch of some memories I want to remember that are quickly fading.
The narrative of 3 weeks.
Of meeting new friends,
Some recognized from the big screen,
Or from cities in our collective past,
Mere few days or few flights back.
Site visits at local gluten-free cafes,
Calls with Directors on ferries,
Patient and enthusiastic.
Resident smiles at socials,
Answer tough questions.
Even the “operation game” a station.
Programs stacked with passionate physicians:
Family Doctors in community, collectives.
The changes: wearing a broach,
Using a wheeling suitcase,
In weather bingo of sun wind and snow.
Ultimately decisions complex.
A rank ignores the lived experience.
Planes, trains, automobiles,
Of ferries, of family, of friends in toe.
And now remembering the narrative,
It layers roughens entangles,
A process. Deliberation.
The privilege, a choice. Called CaRMS.