ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing

April Fools

Updated on February 8, 2010

The confusion of illness

I wish there had been a 
Been a fence to keep us out
The fluttering of the white
Privacy
Curtain
Was not enough
I was committed
And couldn’t get away
 
If only the curtain
Had been strong enough
To keep away
The smell of clean johnnies
And non-latex gloves
To keep
The parade out
The parade of white-coated interns,
Doctors
Nurses,
Phlebotomists, 
Residents
 
But 
It didn’t
They just kept coming, sometimes
In droves, other times in
Trickles
Especially when
The pain
Was excruciating
Then 
They trickled 
Around
Promises and keys
Monitors and permission
Blankets
But never enough to warm
His cold body
In the ER
 
How many times would they ask
Questions from the frail, pain riddled man
Without his memory?
How many times would I have to correct 
His story?
Her story?
 
And yet they kept coming
Asking
Writing
 
And when he cried
I had to explain to the intern
That it was OK
It was just
The morphine crying.
Not my father  
 

Comments

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • Micky Dee profile image

      Micky Dee 7 years ago

      This is very touching. Thank you very much. This is hard truth put together beautifully. Thanks

    • mbwalz profile image
      Author

      MaryBeth Walz 7 years ago from Maine

      Thank you Micky! It's part of a triptych I wrote a while back.

    • habee profile image

      Holle Abee 7 years ago from Georgia

      This reminds me much of my own father. He shot himself and survived 3 weeks on machines and morphine.

    • mbwalz profile image
      Author

      MaryBeth Walz 7 years ago from Maine

      Oh habee, I'm so sorry. That must have been very hard. It is amazing how we can and do go on, isn't it? Peace!

    Click to Rate This Article