Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
TerryCollettPoems
With my hands I move myself to the side of the bed, and stare around with sightless eyes, wondering if the nurse put the commode near the bed as she said she would. I try to balance on one hand as I search around with the other. The pain in my leg stumps nags at me each time I move. I touch the commode arm, and try and move myself in a position, that I may be able to get on the commode, but as I move forward I fall into darkness, and hit my head, and land on my back, and stare into a painful blackness. Grace, a voice says, what are you doing? I face the voice: I wanted to get on the commode, I say. You must ask, the voice says. I want to be independent, I say. Not just yet; now keep still while we assess you for damage, the voice says. She calls out for help; I hear footsteps running and another voice says, what's Grace doing on the floor? She was trying to get on the commode by herself, the other voice says. Shall I call a doctor to examine her? I'm all right, I say, nothing broken; just the usual pains and aches. Your head is bleeding, a voice says; other voices come. I lie still and stare at the darkness around me, attempting to stare at faces I cannot see.
0
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 2:27 AM UTC
FACES UNSEEN 1940
With my hands I move myself to the side of the bed, and stare around with sightless eyes, wondering if the nurse put the commode near the bed as she said she would. I try to balance on one hand as I search around with the other. The pain in my leg stumps nags at me each time I move. I touch the commode arm, and try and move myself in a position, that I may be able to get on the commode, but as I move forward I fall into darkness, and hit my head, and land on my back, and stare into a painful blackness. Grace, a voice says, what are you doing? I face the voice: I wanted to get on the commode, I say. You must ask, the voice says. I want to be independent, I say. Not just yet; now keep still while we assess you for damage, the voice says. She calls out for help; I hear footsteps running and another voice says, what's Grace doing on the floor? She was trying to get on the commode by herself, the other voice says. Shall I call a doctor to examine her? I'm all right, I say, nothing broken; just the usual pains and aches. Your head is bleeding, a voice says; other voices come. I lie still and stare at the darkness around me, attempting to stare at faces I cannot see.
A BLIND WOMAN IN A LONDON HOSPITAL IN 1940.
#woman#blind#london#amputee#nurses#1940
TerryCollett
Written by
TerryCollett
78/M
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 2:27 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem