A post script to the Meth poem of two days ago.
His cardiac arrest
Took forty years off his life,
Now he's babbling like a six year old
To his mother and his wife,
At three a.m. he calls out
Will you please call my Mommy,
I respond, "Right away dude
and then I'll page the Swami".
Instantly anxious
Panicked and wheezing,
Grabbing and thrashing
I know he's not teasing,
While gasping for air
He then holds his breath,
His pulse goes way down
Turning purple, like death.
It's a two nurse dilemma
Handling this guy,
Just a couple days ago
He used meth and did die,
Revived, yes he was
But some brain cells are gone,
And quite frankly, I'm thinking
He is destined for the lawn.
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