A shiny toy it could well be, <br />in other times and better health. <br />This bed in Hospital, electric, <br />with places for restraints, <br />and cables running parallel <br />to tubes which carry drainage, <br />one is so yellow, that's the urine, <br />originating as usual but conveyed <br />right through the private member, <br />stinging when he moves or coughs. <br /> <br />He squeezes the dispenser, demerol, <br />to kill the pain he has not felt since noon, <br />great help it is, it lets you go away, <br />and even doctors will not wake you <br />on their rounds. They are afraid as well, <br />like you, to tell you all, and you, unable <br />to hear or comprehend today, perhaps <br />including all of 'if tomorrow ever comes'. <br /> <br />They cut you brutally, my friend in need, <br />to clean it out, the lesion that obstructed <br />the upper sigmoid so defiantly, on Monday. <br />No smiles were seen on faces, and no pupils <br />were showing you their usual connectiveness, <br />but all would know results tomorrow or today, <br />a verdict looking hopelessly for listeners. <br /> <br />So, come, my dear companion, Sandman, <br />you saw me through so many crises, how <br />could dilemmas get me down and out? <br />And let me sleep the sleep of innocents, <br />no lightning strike will kill you in your dreams. <br /> <br />God willing, I am game, oh yes, if needed <br />you may decide to let me pass into beyonds, <br />where not a single scathing word is spoken <br />and only patience is required as a virtue.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-operation/
