Patrick M. Ohana
Bio
A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. Most of my pieces (over 2,200) are or will be available on Shakespeare's Shoes.
Stories (531/0)
"To Be or Not to Be"
Ironically, the worst pain involves giving birth. There are those, however, who have given birth before or after a barbarous introduction to kidney stones and have stated that the latter took the cake and thrust it against one’s face till the only thing one could wish for was utter unconsciousness. I would have shot myself dead at each occasion in which I had suffered the effects of a kidney stone (there were often more than one), if I had owned a gun, before the morphine shot would cheat my brain into “thinking” that all was well again. I still do not own one, but I could get a gun and wait for the next stone to strike. But why not use it to stop the steady pain and suffering? Why not press it against my left temple (I rather like the right one) and shoot (pain, no more; dead, instead)? Because suicide is painful as well, and pills do not achieve it in most cases. On the other hand, assisted suicide would be one’s best bet, but one has to be terminally diseased to open a death account, and it can be costly if one wants to depart in style à la Switzerland, although there is no elegance in dying, unless one considers films (not documentaries) to be copiously representative of real life.
By Patrick M. Ohana4 months ago in Humans
Beethoven
Music Too - A Scored Haiku The music kills me every time I hear it now since AI’s in it. The original questionnaire by Bernard Pivot (a French literary talkshow host), adapted by James Lipton (Inside the Actors Studio), may offer an interested idea about the individual replying to the ten questions being asked; in this case, the one and only, Ludwig van Beethoven.
By Patrick M. Ohana4 months ago in Poets
The Long Smoke
Selfina was a heavy smoker who went through and consumed three packs of cigarettes faster than her two and a half daily meals. She was quite aware that smoking was going to kill her one day, but her love of the Joker’s brand was greater than her love of life, especially her own. She had stopped smoking for a short while — for Nicole, her partner in this shortening life, for Joey, their son, and for Ashley, their daughter — too many times. Alas, Joker’s were very good to her; extremely uplifting, as they tended to send shivers down and up her spine when she finally smoked them following a Joker’s-less period. She tried hypnosis, acupuncture, Life Sign, Nicorette, and a ghost of other therapies, but Joker’s always got the last breath.
By Patrick M. Ohana4 months ago in Fiction
The Lesser of Two Evils
To free or not to free our will, which is not real, no matter the deal. Why are we here, alive, apparently, but all dying? No one sent us unless we mean that we are the effect of a cause, an effect of countless causes and perhaps a certain degree of chance. They sent us in a way to where we find ourselves, and it is our life experience, all the effects to our lives, that guide us to what we want to do in life, although most of us never get that chance because of other causes and effects. By the way, this is one of the minor proofs of no free will.
By Patrick M. Ohana4 months ago in Poets
TV Syndrome
I opened my eyes with a sensation of fear in my heart, a feeling of dread in my mind, and caution — tantalising. I knew very well the meaning of my bed — General Hospital. It may be true that the eye is the best artist and the greatest composer, for next to me, to my left, on a parallel bed, lay a doll — perfection does not exist — thus she had to be inanimate. She told me that her name was Dorothy Newhart and that close friends called her Dolly. My Heartbeat got stronger and louder — my chest became the amplifier of my feelings. I wanted to be with this darling creature, this 20/20. She told me that I could call her, Ms. Newhart, since she believed that I had no chance of Loving her. It was a replay of the legend of the Beauty and the Beast, but I was no beast — I was a Hunter.
By Patrick M. Ohana4 months ago in Fiction
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