ICU – IMPRESSIONS OF MY FIVE DAYS THERE
A capsule of pain and fear, or an airlock
Waiting for travellers to pass through to a place they’re loath to enter?
Are there those among us who can bring them back?
Across the way in a darkened room,
A man struggles to bring his pulse down and his blood pressure up.
A woman whose teary eyes still hold the captured images of visitors,
Lies dying of the illness of old age, oxygen clamped firmly to her fine face.
Down the line of serried beds a man cries out incoherently−
It is a high-pitched supplication of dread, pain and pleading. Is he talking to God?
Monitors, the Argus-eyed guardians for the physicians,
Blink codes and messages to those trained to read them.
Through all this doctors and nursing staff
Meander among the beds performing minor miracles,
Like a team of lifeguards constantly on duty
Ready to pluck a sinking life from the jaws of eternity.
They fight the battle and mostly win,
But there is no triumphant parade with flags waving,
And boastful thumbs stuck in lapels.
There is no time for that−a new patient is wheeled in from the OR.
There are lines to set and veins to pierce,
And all focus is on the never-ending stream of humanity
On the road to recovery, if not survival.
Written by Mr. Mazinter