Posts Tagged ‘hospital’

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My wife and our three Okinawan grandkids in the ICU Waiting Room hoping for good news about their Dad.

ICU WAITING ROOM
By David Allen

It’s the waiting
that gets to me.
Watching the unresponsive
body on the intensive care bed,
multiple tubes inserted
into veins, nose, mouth, and brain.
Hoping for a raised thumb
or hand clutching mine.
But he sleeps a drugged rest
and I shuffle to the waiting room.

Sitting with family and friends.
We’re running out of caring talk.
Some check smart phones
for word from the outside world.
I listen to the prayer circle
in the next family space.
A minister prays for Jesus
to intercede.

In another space, a tv plays
a hospital show. The sound is muted,
but blood clearly drenches victims of a car crash.
It makes me scratch my head.
Watch a hospital fiction while
the real drama plays out
in a dozen rooms down the hall?

There’s a lot going on
in the waiting room.
A young girl combs
her Barbie’s hair,
while her brothers
play with plastic Xmen.
Their mother is curled up
asleep in a recliner.
Behind me, a bottle of soda
is dispensed with a bang
from a drink machine.
Three middle aged men
in black biker vests
look for a seat, find none,
and walk away.

It’s the waiting that gets to you.
How long should you stay
until you feel like you paid
your respects, prayed
and delivered words of caring?
Even though you’re not sure
if they are heard?
Only to drive home to wait again
in more familiar surroundings,
until it’s time to drive back
and wait some more.

SPINAL SCARS

DAYS OF INSANITY
By David Allen

Something’s wrong.
Why am I lying in this hospital bed
when I was transferred to a different hospital
just two days ago?
You see, I have a rare disease
commonly called
Vitamin d resistant rickets
and I was flown from this hospital
to a university hospital in Indianapolis
for a new study on this rare disease,
which shortened and bent me
bowlegged and soft boned.
It affects maybe 1 out of 20,000 people.
The doctors were excited about the study;
other patients were being flown
in from around the country.
So, why was I back in Anderson?
Sure, the operation didn’t go as expected.
There was a lot more cutting
to free the nerves being squished
by the growth of the soft spinal bones.
but now I was back in the bed where I had to lay still for two days
and then starved without food and water for three days
when my stomach swelled as
the meds fought each other instead of
healing me.

“Why am I back here?”
I asked the nurse who came in to take
my vital sighs.
My voice was weak, raspy.
“Back?” she asked. “Honey you never left.”
“No, I was transferred.”
“What day is it?” she asked.
“Thursday,” I said.
“No, it’s Tuesday,” she said. “How do you feel?”
“Confused, I croaked.
“You’ve been hallucinating,” she said.
“There was a bad reaction to post-op drugs.
But at least you sound a bit better today.
and you can start eating again.
Just then my wife walked in,
“How are you, my love?”
“Confused. The nurse said I’ve kinda been out of it.”
“I’m so glad that’s over,” my wife said.
“You were acting crazy.
Sometimes you lost words,
Replacing them with
sounds that made no sense.”

In the following days
I spoke with friends who said
I was “out of it”
when they called or visited.
I thought about those days
and realized I had drifted back decades
to a time I purposefully
lost my mind with mescaline
to examine the me behind this all.
And I didn’t find an answer.
Just like the last two days.

Hello Tuesday,
How’d you like being
Thursday for a while?