Wordless Wednesday

The Apocalypse

This is the apocalypse
A daffodil has poked its head up
from the dirt and opened
sunny arms to bluer skies
yet I am filled with
dark and anxious dread
as theaters close as travel ends and
grocery stores display their empty rows
where toilet paper liquid bleach
and bags of flour stood in upright ranks.

A Fight with a Heart Patient or a Calling I missed.

Being a nurse or caregiver is a calling, a calling I did not receive.

Caretakers are kind and gentle, they are patient and seem to be always in a good mood. I am afraid I am rather the opposite. I am ironic and perhaps a bit sarcastic, and I don’t have a filter between brain and mouth, which is not helpful at all right now.

Taking Care of a Caretaker

My friend and neighbor had been a nurse for almost 40 years. She stopped working the day after she got diagnosed with cancer. Her front yard is a statement of thanks from patients she helped throughout the years. She never liked cut flowers, gave them away, only kept the potted plants. “They don’t die,” she said and planted them around their house. I have a feeling it was more than just a statement but a reflection of a job that has its dark sides.

The Patient

“I am a patient” I whisper in my head
and I should be treated like one.
Please take care of me
as I lie in this bed
with my insides burning
scared to death of this disease.
My bones ache
I tremble and sweat
and cry staring out the window at the parking garage
where my car is, waiting for me to escape this nightmare.
I wish I could say I’m here because I’m brave
but the truth is I’m trapped here by my body’s rebellion