Safari

Safari

A Poem by The Blood Poet

a strange blue painting

a gurney

the sound of a blood pressure pump

the smell of antiseptic

 

an abandoned wheelchair

an old woman calls for help

she does not know where she is

she wonders by again

 

the elevators are slow

I took my oxygen mask off and go for a chest X-ray

but had to do it over

because I forgot to take my ipod out of my breast pocket

 

Music and guided imagery

has become my favourite medicine right now.

my ipod kept close to my heart

but remember to remove from pocket during X-rays

 

a team of student doctors wish to see a sickle cell patient

I feel like a gazelle in a zoo

a fish in a fish bowl

a pet in a petting zoo

 

more blood has been taken

in one week they have taken over 30 blood tests and administer nearly 4 IVs

injection sites are all over my hands and arms and the vein in my IV have collapsed again

the IV nurse cannot find any more veins for my new IV; it is time for a pick line

 

my arms look like a junky

I’ll where long sleeves and gloves for a while

thankfully it is winter

and not summer

 

a woman crazed with schizophrenia

having daylight hallucinations, battles with God as she

screams at him that she loves him and hates him and wrestles with angels and nurses.

I oddly admire the mythology of her mind �" no mundane imaginings there.

 

a 93 year old man is my hospital roommate

and coughs all night keeping me awake at night

he is very confused and wants to go home; he wanders the halls in his diaper

he asks if the horses have been readied for his trip.

 

the 93 year old man is being told by a social worker

that he must go to a nursing home

he says that sounds like an orphanage

I try not to listen to their conversation, but my heart goes out to him

 

The nurses this evening have been kind

bringing me hot water for my tea

me and my 93 year old roommate are cold

they have run out of blankets at the hospital

 

I pack my things to leave.

I say goodbye to the nurses and thank them for their help.

I try to say goodbye to my roommate

but he does not remember who I am anymore

© 2013 The Blood Poet


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Added on June 15, 2013
Last Updated on June 15, 2013
Tags: poetry, sickle cell anemia, anemia, illness, Canada, health, black poetry, African Canadian, African American, African, Africa, Black women

Author

The Blood Poet
The Blood Poet

Vancouver, BC, Canada



About
Published poet, children's author and illustrator. I teach creative writing and art. Looking to meet other wondrous writing souls. more..

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