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 Musings by The Poet Loriet

Full Moon Friday


Finger prick,
she barely flinched.
I told her we needed
to take her NG tube out,
get her dressing off.
She tolerated it well,
a little too well.

She opened her blue eyes,
couldn't keep them open.
Honey, i said, you really
don't look too good,
you're all sweaty and
very pale. Do you hurt
anywhere? No response.

I couldn't find her pulse,
weak and thready, had to listen
directly to her heart, racing
way too fast, her breathing
loud and labored, thirty
breaths a minute. Two of us
tried to hear her blood pressure.
Sixty over thirty.

We put her on a monitor,
oxygen mask on, called
lab, doctors, respiratory,
supervisor, anesthesia.

The doctor kept asking me
what happened, she was fine
when *I* saw her, and I kept
repeating well, she's not now.
We did this over and over,
and I finally said,
I just got here,
don't know what happened,
but I need some orders now!
He finally admitted that
he didn't know what to do,
gave me another doctor to call.
He was a surgeon, had just
done what he knew how,
removed her ovaries
that were full of cancer
and expected her to live,
with extensive chemo.

But she was in limbo,
hearing the distant call of angels,
seeing a light beyond
the bright overhead exam one.

I called her husband,
told him gently that
we were having problems
with her blood pressure,
had to give her some oxygen
to help her breathe easier,
that her doctors wanted to
send her to intensive care,
where we could run more tests,
see what was going on,
and yes he should come
see her right away.

He thanked me over and over
and my heart broke for him.
He was a hansome grey haired
elderly man in a cardigan
and orthopedic shoes,
always sitting by her side
for hours as she slept,
with love and concern
in his bright eyes.

The supervisor went to see her,
said Lori she doesn't look good,
let's move her now, get her
to ICU before she codes.
We took her in her bed.
She opened her eyes once
going over a bump.
We said wake up sweetheart.
Are these noises scaring you?
Do you hurt anywhere?
She didn't respond,
just closed her eyes.

The supervisor stopped by
at the end of my shift.
I looked up at her with
a question in my eyes,
and she just shook her head.
Her prognosis, she said,
is not very good, Lori.
I don't think she'll make it.
I just nodded and couldn't
even cry, not yet.
I was exhausted.

I hoped I was gentle.
I hoped I had done
everything I could.
I knew I would see
her blue eyes
in my dreams.



Lori Beal








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