ICU

On Sunday I woke up at 7:30 AM, took a shower,
ate some cereal, and then drove to the hospital, where I
then got in the elevator and descended quietly to the ICU.
Outside the big wooden doors stood my 6'6'' uncle with his peppered
hair and glasses with lenses like the bottoms of old Coke bottles.
He looked up from his phone, gave me a hug and a kiss, before
we all walked past a sign that alerted us that we were entering a
CLEAN HANDS ZONE and under another that Welcomed us
To Intensive Care Unit 3200. We walked around and around
this deathly silent rotunda, like a sickly merry-go-round,
past the nurses buried in their charts,staring into the rooms where
frail bodies that lay amongst cords and tubes and stiff sheets,
lying still like papier mâché left to dry. From every room the
rhythmic chirping of cardiac monitors could be heard over the
gentle sighing and sleepy breathing of the medical ventilators.
We crept silently into room 3634 where grandma lay in bed,
and her face was pale and her hair looked whiter than normal
and 34 BPM flashed in red on the screen behind her. I bowed
down and she reached up to hug me. Half an hour later they
let the electrodes slither through her veins and the electrical port
nuzzle and nest in her ribs. She slept and dreamed of running again.