January 31, 2021
He wasn't my patient
but I saw him,
heard the interns discuss him,
watched him slip
further
and further.
It was imminent-
they said.
He didn't say much, just-
help me. His belly taut, legs
puffy-
I knew he hurt, until the drugs
loosened
his reality
and he was quiet.
I've never felt this close
to the precipice
to the messy, visceral shift
veiled neatly by societal metaphor
until now.
After
I click on his medical record
and a new window asks-
"Deceased: Are you sure you want to
view this patient?"
My stomach twists, tasting the raw new concept.
I click- yes.
I think- I don't know.
