Edit/update: I had an ego death which was both exhilarating and therapeutic. Not my first ego death but tha experience was well past due.🍄🚀🪐✌️
It's 05:13, the rain is pounding against my windows, and my heart is being ripped apart by our memories. I just miss you, and I'm sorry.
8 weeks exactly from today it'll be a full year that's gone by without my dad being here but my heart is still as broken for him as it was the day he passed, it hasn't got any easier.
I can't believe that we will not see these artists in the Top 13:
Michael Lee
RADHA
Kameron Marlowe
All these three deserved it more than Lynnea
“Hands of a Nurse”
Antimicrobial polyester blend draped from head to toe
Elastic, ample durability to withstand codes
Standing in the comfiest clogs I’ve ever worn
Pressing “Shock”, 200 joules sent through electrodes
Empathy strikes through my chest as yours rises and falls
A choreographed dismal dance performed by a crowded room
Of stethoscope necklaces and wristwatches counting down 60 seconds
Watching your still chest. Asystole. A life gone too soon
“How can you do what you do?”
I am often questioned with a curious naivety
“is your sleep haunted with visions of despair
Having seen what your troubled eyes have seen?”
Truth is, I’ve wondered just the same
Am I broken or just numbed by the woes?
Making the miasma with the potpourri of those I’ve helped save
Focusing on the highs and burying the lows?
As time of death rang 19:51, the answer found me just as I gave up searching
Rubbing my cracked, dry, overly sanitized hands together with customary vigor
As I bequeath the empty room, void of life
I motion your shell-shocked loved ones to enter
Standing in the doorway, I witness the anguish as my heart bounds from over-exertion
I ignore the flashing call lights beckoning me from down the hall
As tears trickle down my cheek, all at once I find clarity
I am not broken. I am not numb at all.
I look down at my hands and see the epiphany evidenced upon my flesh
Calloused on points of high friction. Protected, thick, and rough
The tips, sensitive to every small needle prick, fragile, perceptive
Able to make sense of everything I touch
- Ali Coe RN 01/21/2020
“Hands of a Nurse”
Antimicrobial polyester blend draped from head to toe
Elastic, ample durability to withstand codes
Standing in the comfiest clogs I’ve ever worn
Pressing “Shock”, 200 joules sent through electrodes
Empathy strikes through my chest as yours rises and falls
A choreographed dismal dance performed by a crowded room
Of stethoscope necklaces and wristwatches counting down 60 seconds
Watching your still chest. Asystole. A life gone too soon
“How can you do what you do?”
I am often questioned with a curious naivety
“is your sleep haunted with visions of despair
Having seen what your troubled eyes have seen?”
Truth is, I’ve wondered just the same
Am I broken or just numbed by the woes?
Making the miasma with the potpourri of those I’ve helped save
Focusing on the highs and burying the lows?
As time of death rang 19:51, the answer found me just as I gave up searching
Rubbing my cracked, dry, overly sanitized hands together with customary vigor
As I bequeath the empty room, void of life
I motion your shell-shocked loved ones to enter
Standing in the doorway, I witness the anguish as my heart bounds from over-exertion
I ignore the flashing call lights beckoning me from down the hall
As tears trickle down my cheek, all at once I find clarity
I am not broken. I am not numb at all.
I look down at my hands and see the epiphany evidenced upon my flesh
Calloused on points of high friction. Protected, thick, and rough
The tips, sensitive to every small needle prick, fragile, perceptive
Able to make sense of everything I touch
- Ali Coe RN 01/21/2020
