Running, rushing
Asking, what happened?
The disbelief, the denial, the grief.
You can’t know how they feel.
Sitting, standing, pacing
Asking self, what did I do wrong?
Not knowing, will he survive?
You can’t know how they feel.
Cleaning, brushing, changing, washing
Stains – vomit, urine, saliva – smells
smoothen creases on the bed
You can’t know how they feel.
Healing, dying?
Gets better, relapses
Tests, results, more tests, more results. Bills.
You cant know how they feel.
Gazing, Calling, staring
Phone calls, relatives
Whispering, talking, hushed tones, raised voices
You can’t know how they feel.
Crying, sighing
Preparing ; home or morgue?
The former, joy; the latter, sorrow
You can’t know how they feel.
(DEDICATED TO RELATIVES OF MY PATIENTS.)
It's painful to watch a loved one suffer. This is a nice tribute to those who've had to do so.
Yes indeed Carrie, had a patient's daughter who almost collapsed after the exhaustion of getting her comatose mother to the hospital.
"You can't know how they feel."
The sentiments in your poem are admirable DR. E – the honest observations of a good doctor!
Anna :o]
Even the most empathetic among us cannot know what has made an individual into themselves. Our life experiences shape us in ways no one can ever define completely. this poem evokes that feeling for me. Thank you for sharing it.
Thank you Anna.
Thank you for that Lynda.