My doctors, VA therapist and nurse daughter warned me that during this time of recovery from Covid I would have increased access to thoughts and emotion previously (and maybe purposefully) just out of reach. Explore them, embrace them, sit awhile with them. Write a poem about my experience a friend suggested, “I would love to read it.”
Here is my first poem…
No, Covid is Not Gone Yet! A Poem by Robert Smith, Robert’s Snap Spot
Unexpected change in this experience, life.
What Omicron? It tried, I Quarantined, I got Better? Breathing, fevers.
Trip to Emergency Room. Doom. Crying.
Pneumonia in Lungs. Not the fatal end… Huh! Sent home.
Wednesday, Emergency Room. Admitted to COVID-19 ward, my husband can visit.
Sunday, COVID ward, “COVID-19 Ward… No visit except EOL (End of Life)!
FaceTime becomes life. Lung doctors, Blood clots and ultra sounds. Hospitalists doctors?
Nurses “the best creation by God”, tests, blood, vitals, Medication. Five times daily. Not the day spa I hoped for.
Lung doctors, hospitalists, physical therapists, discharged with oxygen, large two wheel yet “portable” and lots of medications. Home sweet home! What? A curb! Brick sidewalk! Ten steep steps with turn to apartment! Can I go back to hospital?
Constant hum of oxygen machine, extra long air hose trailing me. Did I take breathing for granted? Health?
Next three months, husband home care. Thank you! Home nurse visit. Thank you! Build lungs back. Very slow. Slow. Slow walking with hose trailing.
Apartment on second floor. Groups of bridesmaids cackle and laugh under window, tourists chat loudly. Where are they from anywhere? Did I mention unexpected change in this experience, life?
by Robert John Smith Jr, Robert's Snap Spot.
I’m home recovering and blogging as therapy.
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