I think I figured it out
03/17/2005 11:40 p.m.
Rush me upstairs to my “day-room”
While I’m still heaving the anesthesia
That poisoned my sleeping body.
Take away the bed
As soon as I take my first post-op step,
Giving me a “nice recliner” to sit in
For the next two hours.
Rush along this “recovery” process
So I don’t clog your bursting census.
Send me home without being sure
Everything is back to working properly,
And diagnose my trip to the ER the next day -
In and out of consciousness
Bradycardic and absorbing O2 at a dangerously
Low rate of 82%
Due to the overdose of undigested pain medications –
As “nausea and vomiting”
I mean, after all,
That sounds innocent enough.
It might have been better if you’d made sure
I was digesting adequately
Before directing me to fill my stomach with
Oxycodone and Vicodin Q4hrs
Allowing an overdose to extend an
Already difficult recovery.
If I could spit on your “practice” of medicine…
Maybe I belong in an earlier era
Where my need to have that organ removed
Might have killed me instead.

I am currently Bummed
I am listening to My stomach working again