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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1302045
by Hezza
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Medical · #1302045
The sterile environment of a bone-marrow transplant patient
I wrote this after first being told of the treatment that my uncle had to go through when suffering Hodgkins Disease. He later died, and this is posted in his memory.

***

Disinfectant, strong and white,
White floor,
White walls,
White ceiling.
The crisp pressed bedsheets also white,
And pillows,
Dressing-gowns,
Towels.

I live in a world of clinical smells,
Of germ-free surfaces,
Spotless floors.
Everything clean and spotless,
No dirt,
No life.

Family and friend visit with masks,
Through a wall of glass,
White I sit in my disinfected prison,
On the other side.
No touching,
No holding,
No kissing,
Alone.

It didn’t sound hard
When they told me I’d have to sit
In a pressurised room,
To force any particles out,
Away from me,
But it’s hard to be here
When they’re all out there –
What life can there be for me,
When there’s no life allowed
Around me?
© Copyright 2007 Hezza (hezza1506 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1302045