Rage, rage

Do not go gentle into that good night

by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

This poem was read to us at morning report by one of our departing British doctors, Dr. Richard Cantelo. There is something about the reading of a poem (with a fine British accent) that speaks of fighting against death in a war zone, where young men and women do die, that is so incredibly moving. I've seen a heart that was not beating for several seconds suddenly start. We've all seen patients with injuries that at first blush seem incompatible with life, only to watch the patient "rage, rage against the dying of the light." As I said in my last post, it is awe-inspiring. I hope and pray that those young men and women who do succeed in raging against the dying of the light, continue raging because many of them will need every bit of emotional strength they can muster as they continue the healing process. I hope and pray that they have the support systems in place to help them and their families. We, as a military and as a country, owe them that.

The days are getting longer. The mornings aren't so cold. I love spring. I love the grass and little flowers that are trying to grow in a dusty, unfriendly environment. I love that it is March. Because if it is March then that means NCAA conference tournaments followed by March Madness. Not sure that there is a more perfect sporting event. This will be the first time in decades that I will not be watching many of the games live. I'll manage, but not sure the anxiety and excitement will transmit in quite the same fashion with the automatic 30 second refresh on the ESPN home page!

With spring comes rain. With rain comes mud and puddles. With puddles (or as we affectionately call it, Lake Kandahar) comes the opportunity to skip stones. It's the little things in life...