Hand Over the Keys

David K

And now?

Diagnosis given, moving on.

Seriously, risks explained, moving on.

Paperwork all signed, moving on.

Authority commanded.

Dignity abandoned.

Modesty reduced to next-to-naught.

Privacy expressed by holding hands to cover privates

With all eyes averted from that very spot.

Hair removal done, moving on.

Gurney ride for free, moving on.

Twilight time encountered, moving on...

And, now?

Sleep the sleep of the drugged

While the machines take over

The vital functions

Of your life.

Wow.

And now?

“Hello.”

“Squeeze if you heard me.”

(Squeeze.)

(I can’t, pant, breathe, pant.)

“Stop struggling if you heard me.”

(Uhh... )

“Are you breathing? Well played.”

“Breathe some more.”

And now?

A pinch

A hair, pulling

A burp that does not materialize

An aching muscle

A stretching muscle

A stretching of skin

A spasmodic twinge

Not quite heartburn

Medications imbibed, moving on.

Walk a mile, moving on.

Intubation removed, moving on.

Urination unassisted, moving on.

Dignity restored, not yet - wait a while.

Released to recover, moving on...

Eat and sleep, walk and evacuate,

Repeat for days, for weeks,

For months - not years.

Realize mortality. Relish life.

Relish living - not the same thing at all.

Rejoice that the keys have been returned.

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