Dignity disappears the minute you walk into a hospital waiting room.
Triage, means maybe YOU shouldn't even be there.
How long you're made to wait will determine the worth of your complaint.
Cumbersome, barely able to waddle forth
toward the ripped skin of an ancient chair
permanently bolted to the sick-ward green tiles.
They look at you, you know
like, what the hell?
Still, this is what you were told to do.
So you wait, as dis~ease swarms
feeding on the life that courses through your veins
that now cradle a life yet to know pain
misfortune, selfishness, illness
or not enough insurance coverage
to go about this the way you want.
An hour later, even those warm butterflies
tickling your womb start to show the signs of stress
until finally they threaten to send you home
You're not ready yet...the pain is figment of
imagination, and I'm sorry Miss
but we've no beds ready.
1999 was a banner year in my bubble, one that introduced me for the first time to the medical system we have come to be so proud of. There are amazing miracles that happen everyday in this country at no cost to the patient. Lives are saved, (ask my Dad!) and lives are started, but the flaws are there, and I would love to see them fixed. No matter my grievances, we welcomed a beautiful baby girl into the world on November 26th, 1999...as eventually, the bed was found...when I refused to be sent home!
So Shawna of Rosemary Mint, many thanks to you for the flashback to 99 as the prompt at Poetics today. Happy I was able to make it...and you, dear reader, should venture over and tell us about YOUR 1999 at dVersePoets