Thursday, January 12, 2017

Denial and Death

The holidays are over, so I can write a depressing story. Yes, of course it's true (with a few embellishments), and took a month for me to regurgitate.

Denial and Death

The Christmas Holiday season
Is such a special time of the year,
This is where good old Uncle Bob
Will play out his dying fear,
He has a history of heart failure
And has angina every day,
Now he's faced with Christmas dinner
Fat, salt and sugar heading his way.

He's a tough old Russian Teamster
He could pull a tractor with his teeth,
But now his chest hurts a little
He's short of breath, just hanging the wreath,
Mamma says, Daddy, your face is purple
He replies, Don't worry, it's kinda cold out,
Whispering silently to himself
No reason to scream and shout.

A silent M.I, in action
Myocardial damage, during dinner,
Everybody joking about how
Uncle Bob, used to be thinner,
Then, in the family room, later
A rousing toast to a wonderful life,
Everybody bragging
About great kids and the good wife;

Then suddenly,
Down goes Uncle Bob,
And ten year old Joey
Does a miraculous job,
Performing Cub Scout CPR,
Until the Paramedics arrive
In their siren-shrieking car.

Three days later
It's a forgone conclusion,
That Uncle Bobs brain
Has undergone fusion,
Of white matter
Sulci and neurons,
About as dense as the muck
At the bottom of Lake Huron.

But that's not what his wife sees
When Uncle Bob wiggles and twitches,
It reminds her of those times
When he stumbled into the ditches,
Out on the steppes of old Russia
Drinking potato whiskey,
She sheds a nostalgic tear
Back then, he was so frisky.

This is the new world
Sorrowful last fable,
Where no medical options
Are left on the table,
Leaving old fashioned hope
Amidst old time religion,
Sending desperate prayers to Jesus
Strapped to a messenger pigeon.

We do our best
To provide logic with sensitivity,
While this family prays Psalms
Focusing on Nativity,
A miraculous rebirth
For Uncle Bob, in all His Glory,
And as the weeks drag on
Hubby, becomes a laboratory;
Bacteria, of virulent strains
Take over in his G.I. tract,
Like a festering Petri dish
Drug resistance, in fact.

Rotting away
Such an uncouth term,
Especially the morning
When a festive brain worm,
Was seen escaping
Uncle Bob's Left ear,
Erupting suddenly
With a burst of cheer,
Singing, "Oh, we're having a party
Up in Uncle Bob's brain,
Giggling insanely
Repeating the refrain.

Finally, a consensus
Uncle Bob, can be a DNR,
But no, not Comfort Care
That would be going too far,
Thus, another month drags on
While, this body decays,
A desperate, trapped soul
Silently screaming for 100 days.

Until he died.

A pigeon pooped on Mamma's car that day
A message from Uncle, as if to say:

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