Hospital Echoes

Heat racing, his mind struggles This is now, not then. Whispers of childhood Haunt his every step. This is now, not then. Flashes of memory roll through his mind As a gurney oft rolled him through these halls Or halls just like these, he reminds himself That was then, not now. His chest tightened, he strains for each step Awash in vintage anxiety He focuses his thousand yard stare. This is now. That was then. The sharp scent of rubbing alcohol Nurses and surgeons in their scrubs induce Childhood fear. He acknowledges the fear But keeps his eyes ahead. God this is hard. His head is swimming now Nought but his sight Keeps his balance. The world is spinning He can taste the aseptic air. That was then, this is now. And the fear remains. Choking him, stabbing at him Begging him to run, scream, cry… Do something. Again he mutters, That was then, not now. General Surgery… check in. He walks in… To the recovery room. A wrong turn, and his knees nearly buckle before he catches himself. His voice… no… His father's voice Sprouts from his throat Asking directions. He finds the reception office Gives his information Weight. Height. Blood pressure. (That was then, this is now.) The terror in his bones ignores the mantra. He listens to the doctors, the nurses, Unbelieving. Walking in a day? Full recovery in 6 weeks. He's sure they said that forty years ago To his parents And the boy's wounds still haven't healed.