Sometimes you have to take a chance

What is this jeopardy I undertake?
A futile try to turn death's blind and solemn eye?
No, just a chance,
thrown on the hard green felt of life,
Sometimes we have ought else,
So thrust it forth and let it ride on red.

Charge and shock,
Infuse the drugs.
It will or won't,
Depending on the fates,
Bring life, or leave it lie on death.

And o'er and o'er, to no avail,
And then we try the thing,
That is not in our book,
But has long been within our head.

And there, a beat,
Another.
Prometheus hath found fire,
Of which he must not speak.

We write it up to fit,
The concepts of physicians,
Long insulated from the field,
Wherein we do this thing.

And Lo, it works – and no one knows,
But us,

And we have won the roll,
And no one ever knows,
But we go home,
And hide the chips within our heads...

And always know they're there.