Not Yet Cathetered

By Garry Rowlands

Chest pain, dizziness, out of breath.

Arm pain, nausea, gasp for breath.

An ambulance whisks me from untimely death

and drops me at the nearest a&e.

It’s 2am and all’s well

Though sticky pads, slapped here and there,

pinch the skin and pull the hair

from a chest waxed bare

by the pads of previous ecgs.

I lie still, relax, and breath.

It’s 4am and all’s well.

I am, as yet, not cathetered

Though machines around me flash and beep

and noisily disturb my sleep,

And leave me groggy and drifting deep

in the wash of broken dreams,

they reassure me I still live.

It’s 6am and all’s still well

Some other patients seem much worse.

as they twist and turn and groan and curse

and, fighting, wrestle with the nurse

as she tries to do her stuff

to ease their pain.

It’s 8am and I am well.

I remain, so far, uncathetered

and my file’s still free from the fateful phrase

‘Nil by mouth’.

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