CAN I GO HOME? ....PLEASE?

 

The first of my patients came in last month,

A sturdy young man he was;

His face was a picture of friendship and warmth;

Don’t ask what his prognosis was.

 

By evening a bit of the wave could be seen

The next day went by in a haze

We just had no time to sink all this in

As the hours of watch turned to days

 

We were promised some time off for self-quarantine

Post the frenetic and dire multi-tasking, 

Now while we’re putting our lives on the line,

An ‘off’? We’re not even asking.

 

The protective cover they first gave us

Was taken from “HIV”;

There was no time for question or fuss

Our lives would in God’s hands be.

 

I have an ailing spouse at home,

A child who needs my care;

But by the time I’m allowed to go

I’ll be the worse for wear.

 

For one thing I know, I won’t sleep at all

Whenever I do get out;

The constant buzz of the patients’ call

Will ring in my head, throughout.

 

I recall as yet that first young man

Who walked in a month ago

Or was it two …or a longer time span?

Let me get home. I don’t want to know.

 

 

 

STANLEY COUTINHO

composed in April 2020 soon after the panic started.