Poetry: Nero-ICU

About my Dad in the Nero-ICU: a (slam) poem

by Emily Horne on Monday, November 7, 2011 at 10:01am ·

Wake up
wake up
wake up
daddy
MASSIVE BRAIN BLEED
surgery
ventilator
brain waves
tracheotomy
insulin
wake up
wake up
INFECTION
fever
wide spectrum antibiotics- (just like on House)
open your eyes
open your eyes
seizures
SEIZURES
in the brain
Verced
blood pressure
pressure
pressure
pressure
21 days
“he wont wake up”
“he might wake up”
“he will wake up”
WAKE THE FUCK UP
no sedatives
just him
no movement
eyes reactive
good stats
his stats
I read his stats like they are part of a long conversation that we are having. A long overdue conversation not in a grocery store or in passing on the streets, and I have always had hope, incredible hope. Hope we would be together and go fishing again and tell stories again and eat uni with a quail egg again. I hoped for so long...then...
CRITICAL BRAIN INJURY
and I hoped some more
open your eyes
move your foot
squeeze my hand
and I wonder...
how did it happen?
why did it happen?
the merry band of coulda woulda shoulda's come dancing in.
I hate this hospital chair
it is supposed to fold out into a bed
it has massive cracks when you lay on it
the cracks let in the cold air
of the Nero ICU

and daddy
my daddo
laying there
still
breathing in rhythm
asleep?
dreaming?
Out on an adventure and it is a cruel joke that we are screaming at his body.
Lonely.
So
Lonely.
Day 24.
wake up
wake up daddy.