I wonder sometimes,
Between 3am ward calls,
And figuring out Abx dosing –
Never mind what bugs we’re fighting…
How you’re doing,
Beyond jokes about hospital food,
A great view, a good book.
I wonder how you feel when I ask you
What you know and why you’re here,
And you respond “my heart’s on the way out”.
I wonder how one should feel –
How I’d feel;
You’re 4yrs older than me.
Next room, another patient.
You cried when we told you
You ought to be admitted. Again.
It strikes me as you live in a shelter.
It makes me want to learn re: your reality,
While I question my own.
For how many is a supposed place of healing, not.
And Mr. M, you’re next on my roster.
You sign a consent for a blood transfusion,
Without deviating your sight from the football game.
After tiring while adjusting your covers.
You’re as indifferent to that outcome,
As to your hemoglobin count it seems.
“As long as it’s a good game” you say.
I hope this speaks to your life as well.
And between the narratives, sights, smells,
I wonder how I am to you.
Do I pause in the right spots?
Address areas of importance to you?
Do you feel I listen?
With so much program feedback,
Student assessments, exams, grades,
I’d like you to have more of a say,
Cause between 3am ward calls,
And figuring out yet another abx dose,
I too feel, fear and ultimately,
Hope for the best as well.