My Papa

My Papa's been living

a whole lot of years

lots of loving and joy

tinged with

sadness and tears.

he'll be eight decades old

when this May,

flowers bloom

and I hope he's not still

in a hospital room.

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He's been clinging to life

with a tenacious grip

beyond all understanding

he just wants one more sip

Like some dried, flower husk

gasping for precious drops

of life's dew to rejuvenate

what time wants to stop.

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I've watched years tattoo

his skin mottled with age

bed sores rubbed on his hips

far too long many days

and his bottom flesh ripped

soaked in bodily wastes

and his dry sore cracked lips

drenched in grease covered paste

from an oxygen mask

that helps him keep breathing

in a much needed task

as he's falling to waste.

mingled with the mauve bruises

of I.V. needle drips

a road map to oblivion

at the end of a page.

Yet he struggled on taking

many detours from death

doing most that they asked

every step of the way.

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He went years

without eating

or drinking at all

only fed by some Jevity

without any levity

pumped through

a small tube

into his stomach wall.

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But the Docs separated

his esophagus from

his airway ...six hours

before they were done

A difficult surgery

which allowed him to eat

and drink at long last

making mealtimes a treat.

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His face was a beaming

toddler savoring that first

lovely bite of sweet chocolate...

then he quenched his long thirst.

I saw hope shining brightly

As he conquered his curse

eating lunch without tubing

and no need to rehearse.

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I give thanks to the doctors

and nurses who cared

plus the aides that worked for him

all the help that they shared

He had no hope without them

they deserve utmost praise

for healing his problems

and extending his days.

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14 weeks in hospitals

and in nursing homes too

4 times some almost killed him

but he still made it through

Not enough staff, and negligence

hindered his fight

plus plain happenstance

it's an elderly blight.

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But he'll be

discharged Monday

not to his home which is

his most sacred Nirvana

which one day will be his.

First he's headed to rehab

where he hopes to start walking

he'll be learning to get up

And re-master his talking.

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Motor skills they require

before he's homeward bound

We'll all be there to greet him

Glad that he's still around.

Watching your dad almost dying

is not easy you know

he took a long painful path

all across Ohio

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Endless hospital rooms

and in two nursing homes

till he was almost nothing

but skin and bones.

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Yet he never gave up,

and he seldom gave in.

he had a heart of steel

beneath some very thin skin.

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I believe all his struggles

trying to stay alive

might just keep him

here with us

till he's past ninety-five.

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Pop believes

most in God

that grants him

bonus points

even though

he's been stuck

in some ungodly joints.

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They say faith can

move mountains

I believe that it can

cause I watched

faith breathe life

in one skeletal man.

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All he wants is his wife

and his big chair at home,

and a cat he calls Sammy

cause he's been so alone.

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98 days in bed

though I came every day

except for a few,

when work called me away.

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How those hours

they stretched

with four walls as a friend

as he struggled to breathe

still refusing his end.

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It's a place we're all headed

around some distant bend

please make sure

when you get there

you have family and friends.

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I 've seen so many people

left alone in their rooms

no one paid them a visit

in their above ground tombs.

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Even holidays passing

left them lying alone

sad eyes staring out doorways

wishing they could go home.

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All those Elanor Rigby's

and those reclusive men

who would never feel sunshine

on their faces again.

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We warehouse our old folks

with sub-standard care

there's not enough money

to keep more staff there.

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They're allotted just so much

what's left is despair

and sometimes it's easier

to forget that they're there.

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I have seen

many nightmares

that soon I will share

cause we need so much more

of reforming health care.

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All those nurses call buttons

can be pushed till your blue

but with so many patients

there's not much they can do.

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Most have one

nurse providing

for 12 patients or more

on a shift of eight hours

do the math for each floor.

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It's procedure it's budgets

it's all they choose to pay

all those fat cats, and big wigs

who won't suffer such stays.

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They'll each have private nurses

answering their beck and call,

with no need for call buttons

blinking down busy halls.

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Dad had trouble with breathing

send this record to Guinness,

their response time was dismal

it took twenty-five minutes.

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After surgery one week

he lay stuck in his bed

with no food 18 hours

left without his pain meds.

9:00 at night

till the next day

at about 5:00 p.m

when he scribbled me notes

to get some help for him.

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Just some orders from Doctors

without communication

times thousands of hospitals

all across our "great??" nation.

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Folks I do not exaggerate

I've no reason to lie,

there's a lot more I saw

that made me want to cry.

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But I can't forget Papa

and his determined stare

So I'm hubbing a portion

of his story to share.

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If you've got a sick loved one

in a place like Dad's known

run, don't walk bring them comfort

bring a warm taste of home

no one should die alone.

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We'll all have to account for

how our folks met their ends

heaven's holding them mansions

where we will meet again.

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We must honor our parents

till they reach that far shore,

then we're sure to be welcomed

In a mansion next door,

when we're all called

to join them

as family evermore.