Thirteen-month-old baby
Eighth wonder of Stevie
Always strive and prosper.
We’ll get you home ASAP.
Your month on service, week or less. No ACS involved.
Seamless addition to our multidisciplinary team roster.
Cards consult said monitor your coags.
They loved you Lovenox.
We loved on sliding scale, the left heart coddler.
Does Coumadin rhyme with troubadour?
You’re such a ham, gurgling over the radio on the unit.
This new shit’s from the ASAP collective, you’re the lone sample clotter.
So you spent a month with us first-toothed, tussive, low on feeds.
Grew our hypoplastic hearts twenty day-sizes at who knows what medical cost.
Whole time in red and blue stripes with onesie runs and splatter.
When my seniors drew your coags, my junior restrained you.
Then I threw down. I held down your hands, which they mitted scratchproof.
They couldn’t get the manicurist to mother you ASAP. You called each of us “dada.”
“Aww, sorry I’m being such a bee-yotch!”
Said the traplord. She’s my senior.
I’m developmentally delayed per program data.
Your first word was, and still is, “dada.”
Back out of the pen, we shot layups against medical advice.
I took your hand, in that you took my pen, but I let you because you were a trooper.
Lolling without head control for laughs, you reached out and touched your mother.
Next day you were back in clinic, they restrained your dad. Put him in 72-hour psych hold.
ACS came ASAP, now your traplord superpower.
Eighth wonder of Stevie
Always strive and prosper.
We’ll get you home ASAP.
Your month on service, week or less. No ACS involved.
Seamless addition to our multidisciplinary team roster.
Cards consult said monitor your coags.
They loved you Lovenox.
We loved on sliding scale, the left heart coddler.
Does Coumadin rhyme with troubadour?
You’re such a ham, gurgling over the radio on the unit.
This new shit’s from the ASAP collective, you’re the lone sample clotter.
So you spent a month with us first-toothed, tussive, low on feeds.
Grew our hypoplastic hearts twenty day-sizes at who knows what medical cost.
Whole time in red and blue stripes with onesie runs and splatter.
When my seniors drew your coags, my junior restrained you.
Then I threw down. I held down your hands, which they mitted scratchproof.
They couldn’t get the manicurist to mother you ASAP. You called each of us “dada.”
“Aww, sorry I’m being such a bee-yotch!”
Said the traplord. She’s my senior.
I’m developmentally delayed per program data.
Your first word was, and still is, “dada.”
Back out of the pen, we shot layups against medical advice.
I took your hand, in that you took my pen, but I let you because you were a trooper.
Lolling without head control for laughs, you reached out and touched your mother.
Next day you were back in clinic, they restrained your dad. Put him in 72-hour psych hold.
ACS came ASAP, now your traplord superpower.
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