A Patient of a Different Kind

By the door I go, for she’s about to walk into a failed code.

The way is paved for her,

She’s moving too confidently,

She’s moving not urgently.

My pace trying to match the rate in which her concern denatures to devastation.

She walks in, suddenly on her knees.

The same hands that pounded on her daughter’s heart are now tightly wrapped around her side,

trying to lift her to a chair,

a chair that a nurse placed nearby.

She screams into my neck—

A sound I’ve blocked but my body still feels,

Even now, feels

the vibration of a sound so wretchedly animal, yet so specifically human.

A sound that was patented for this moment, otherwise never to be summoned.

She speaks two languages, yet cannot find a single word for this.

My gloves are filled with perspiration as I clench my fists,

so that she doesn’t feel a tremble.

“Time of death—“ The raw, unfiltered cry of a mother’s worst nightmare fills the room and spares no one. Even the seasoned ones.

Everyone clears the room for respect.

I follow suit but my heart is on it’s knees,

next to her chair,

beside her bed.

I look back to this mother and with such authority I want to say,

“We have a new patient in this room, someone needs to stay."