I look at her notes:
End stage renal failure. Diabetes. Congestive Heart Failure. Hypertension.
Bag of Meds. Distraught family. Three flights of stairs.
Why do the sickest live on the third floor?
Desperation fills the room. It has itâ€™s own scent.
Adult diapers. More medications spilled on the floor
barely breathing. Unresponsive, life nearly over.
She wonâ€™t be thirty-eight.
IV failed, no pressure in the veins.
Blood glucose 11. Glucagon in the triceps.
No flinch, cold, dead flesh.
Minutes pass, a flicker of the eyes, an opening
We transported to the ER.
I don’t even know why.
All around us people are living lives in quiet desperation. Try and be kind. At some time or another it will be our turn, if it already isn’t.