I went to a writing group meeting the other day and one of our assignments was to write a poem. The theme was "waiting". Well, I guess I had the ICU on my mind when I wrote this:
Waiting…
The monitor beeped in the background
As the machine took another breath.
Tubes carried food and water,
As the bed bore up life and death.
They came several times a shift:
White coats, green scrubs or plain,
Checked numbers, connections and flow rates;
Today was there weight loss or gain?
“Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones!”
called a tired but firm young voice.
Tired eyes above an endotracheal tube
Opened to silence the noise.
The intern left after data gathering,
Leaving a sea of tubes and pumps.
Amidst them, a Mr. Jones closed his eyes
Again to resume the waiting…
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