The burial ground under the hospital

Today I discovered that there is a series of tunnels that run under and connect the hospitals that I go to. Being in a rush, and being curious, I decided to follow the tunnels and see what it was like.

These tunnels were pretty eerie. They were deserted. Clearly, most people do not use them on beautiful days. The eeriest part was the scads of broken down hospital beds and wheelchairs. It felt like a graveyard of old equipment. Some of it in cages, so it couldn”t be stolen, some of it just lying about with no particular rhyme or reason. I had the feeling that these junked pieces of hospital equipment were like elderly people being warehoused, long forgotten, and that at any moment they might get up and walk around and tell me about their arthritis.

There was a long tunnel to the next hospital, where I was informed halfway through that there was a defibrillator if I needed it. That will buck up your confidence. If I fall and break my leg and can’t move and no one is about,  at least there will be the defibrillator. I ended up  stumbling out of the tunnel into a part of my hospital that I had never seen before.

It was an excellent adventure to try this new route and discover this new part of the hospital. Have you discovered the nooks and crannies and interesting rooms in your hospital? Do you ever go exploring? Have you ever stumbled across some little treasure of a place? I wouldn’t exactly call this series of  tunnels a treasure, but it was new and interesting and might even warrant a poem.

On a different note, I just stumbled upon this website – poems by doctors and nurses.



2 thoughts on “The burial ground under the hospital

  1. eses says:

    Hi, Sam: It’s thoughts provoking.
    Your piece made me think about beauty. How do they live together in the world: beauty and ugliness? Does our marching through the tunnels of ugliness induce some beauty in us? Do we even want to grow/come back/turnout beautiful? Why don’t we accept that some corners of our life is not beautiful? Why are we afraid that ugliness can take over the whole life of ours?
    Thanks. And have a beautiful (upsss) day.

  2. es says:

    You may google Butoh images.

    Kazuo Ono, one of the creators of Butoh says this: “There are an infinity of ways in which you can move from that spot over there to here. But have you figured out those movements in your head, or are we seeing your soul in motion? Even that fleck at the tip of your nail embodies your soul… the essential thing is that your movements, even when you’re standing still, embody your soul at all times.”
    A Japanese postmodern dance Butoh is an example of art of beautiful ugliness. The aesthetics traditions of Butoh are not classically beautiful. Butoh is a grotesque. The elements of Butoh are used in dance therapy in US and Japan. I find Butoh practicing and intentions incredibly healing. Some nontraditional therapies access that eternal and metaphysical essence of reality through ugliness. My experience of working with cancer patients and patients with other life-threatening diseases tells me that, often, in order to gain stability and beauty of your mind and your body you may go (maybe, destined to go) through tragedy and ugliness. Is my point positive enough? Does it help?

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