Hospital Triptych - Part 3

I Don’t want to stay, I don’t want to go

It wasn’t bad
His mind had just taken a
Vacation
And his kidney had shut down
And there was a sudden
Clot in the lung
But it wasn’t anything they couldn’t fix

“sundown syndrome in the ICU, it’s common and doesn’t worry me…”
I wished this doctor would hold
My hand
And make it all
Go away

But this man,
Laying in the bed
In ICU
wasn’t like my father
This man was confused and miserable

I wanted the doctor
To hold my hand
And I would never let him go
so I would always know
what they were doing
To dad
And why
And when

But the parade would start
Often before I could get there
The interns, the residents
The nurses, the specialist
All asking
What’s going on
All explaining
what would happen
to the man
who didn’t know
where he was and called me
to tell me
they were having a party in his honor

It was never clear
When the parade would arrive
Or who to ask
Or what floor he was on today

“Sweetie,” he squeezed my hand
“I don’t want this, I don’t want to do this any more”
“It’s ok Dad, you’ll be fine” I squeezed back
But would he
Or would they patch him up
While something else was breaking
In his weak body
That they would patch while something else broke

“I don’t want this anymore” as the nurse held his hand
“I need to go somewhere quiet” as his dear friend held his hand
“I just want do this any more” as his nephew held his hand
“Please, I just need to go away Sweetie,“ as he squeezed my hand
once more

I walked the halls
Took sleeping pills at night
Freaked out with the nurses
Ruminated on my duties,
on my agreement with him

And chased down a doctor
Some doctor
Any doctor I could find
Who was on his team
This week
And pinned them down
For three minutes
In the hall
Between the elevator
And the patient rooms

Yes, ok, they’d start the paperwork
With his condition
It would be quick
He’d be comfortable
we could all be there
it would be peaceful

No more tubes or
Blood work or tests or
Nurses or doctors or residents
or shift changes or linen changes

And it would be quiet


In the midst of my life
Outside the walls
And the halls and rooms and
Machines
The phone rang

This week’s second shift on-duty doctor
I’d barely met spoke:
“But your father, I asked him, and he says he has a million reasons to live – he doesn’t want hospice, he wants to get better”

I ran out the door
And jumped in the car
I was late
Picking  up my daughter
From school