Black water flows,
Circling in doomed
Awaiting the inevitable,
An unknown stream of unconsciousness.
River running fast but leading nowhere,
Black water flows carrying the tail ends
Air above swirls through forced motion
Decisions being made
Without action to follow.
Life and death swirl in dark water
And still I wait.
Life beats fast before
Closing its chambers.
Red rivers flow
Until merging with black water.
Time stands still momentarily;
Then it’s gone in one moment;
The tide pools quell
Waiting mysteriously with hidden messages.
Black water flows on
I’m finished waiting
It’s time to go home.
I wrote this poem over ten years ago while working the night shift in NYC. My patient was dying from complications of Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV). I knew nothing about this woman except that she was a prostitute at some point in her life, contracted HIV, was on a ventilator, near death, and all alone.
When I walk into a patient’s room, I don’t always have the luxury of caring for a person who can walk or talk. I may need to wear a mask to ward off Tuberculosis (TB), or gloves to protect myself from infected blood containing deadly organisms.
When I walk into a patient’s room I check my hang-ups at the door. I’m there for one reason, and for one reason only…to take care of the person in the bed in front of me to the best of my ability.
I don’t care how you got there, what you did in your life, if you’re a prisoner or a prostitute, I do care; however, how I’m going to make a difference in the twelve hours I’m assigned to your care.
I think the saddest thing I’ve encountered over my twenty-five years of nursing is when I’m caring for a dying patient who’s dying alone. Not all of us are fortunate enough to have an entourage holding vigil around the deathbed. Some of us go quietly, slipping out before anyone notices we’re even gone.
It’s heartbreaking to watch a fellow human being die alone. I try to be present when I can sitting quietly at the bedside to bid them farewell on to their next journey.
They say we come into this world alone, so leaving should be no different, but I beg to differ. I know this is my personal belief and may not be shared by others, but holding the hand of a lonely soul as they take their final breath is the least I can do as their nurse, but more importantly is the least I can do as their fellow human being.