A Night in Intensive Care

His night
in intensive
care
was followed
by three,
unexpected,*
eight hour
chunks

At least,
it was
a private,
single
room

Insomniac again,
he asked
the ever-present
nurse,

"...if she
felt
like talking?"

Since
it was
so boring,
and sleep
was
impossible,
on account
of the pharmaceutical
cocktail,
and the thirst
was
unbearable,
and,
apparently,
no-one
would
give him
a drink, 
as they
were under,
strict
instructions,
and no water
could be drunk,
save for
ice chips,
alone
to wet
the inside
of his mouth,
and that,
only,
after
thirty
six hours,
to ensure
against rupture
of the freshly
gelling,
coagulating
blood
connected
rearrangements
of what was
now left,
of his
internal
organs.

"I don't usually talk
to the people
in here."

she replied,

speaking over
her shoulder
to him,

from
a small
table
with
a lamp

situated
in a mini
nurse's station

over there
in the corner

where
she then sat

for the rest
of the night
with her back

to him,
except

for the times,
(every
forty five
minutes),

when
she was

required
to take

readings
and to
make recordings
of the differing
ratios
of fluid
flows
and
of the
movements,
rates
and
beats
of
the human
respiratory
system's
patterns,
in relation,
to his body,
and
in particular,
to his
current,
uncooked,
roast
dinner,
ready-carved
status, which,

she under took,
managing
to avoid
making eye
contact
with him,
at all,

before returning,

to her seat
for the rest
of her part

of the midnight
til eight
graveyard shift
night

in the intensive
care ward.

Reading,
a Patricia
Cornwell
novel.

"Most
of the people
we get
in here...

They
aren't ever
conscious."

She explained.

When,

At last,

He finally

Did
fall asleep,

There,
on his
very own,

Extra
Lucky,

moveable bed,

in that,

Death-chamber,

For merely,
forty five
minutes,
alone.

It contributed,
toward creating

The best
awakening
feeling

He'd
ever
experienced.









*It's the Cerebus-Toye Hospital policy that the patient's experience remain a magical mystery tour, as dictated by the energy level constraints placed upon the actual medical staff by their inability to cognitively deal with the chronic under-supply and under staffing and the, unquestionably unhealthy, dutifully fulfilled, working hours.

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[Brett Hernan]

Who ever was involved in creating the first twelve views of this were robbed by me, as I edited the original at this point.