I remember the day that they stopped the clock,
The day they told me your time had been bought,
“We’ll make him comfortable”…those dreaded words,
If there’s a “comfortable” way to die it’s absurd!
I’d armed myself with so many books,
Praying somehow they had overlooked,
Determined that I would find you a cure,
They’d made a mistake, of that I was sure.
Your diagnosis had stopped my heart,
You were far too young, when did it start,
Seeking answers with no explanation,
All they told me was your life expectation.
I could sense their pity when they came in the room,
Nurses would say “we’ll be back in soon”
I wanted to tell them I knew all along,
That this was the point where I had to be strong.
Each nurse and Dr. had a different tone,
Individual “styles” of care they had shown,
The best by far whilst always complying,
Were the ones who didn’t remind us you’re dying.
You just wanted to chat about the football game,
How was the weekend, was the “nightlife” the same,
Was there anything good on the television,
Quick turn the channel if it’s Eurovision!
We talked a lot, it was so surreal,
All you cared was how I would feel,
“I’m going to send someone special to you”
Only thinking of me and what I would do.
It didn’t take long until your body grew weak,
Our eyes were the only way we could speak,
They gave us our space, they showed such respect,
They knew it was over though you hadn’t gone yet.
I’ll always thank each nurse who was there,
For all of their true compassion and care,
Please try to remember what they are relying,
Is on you to treat them like they are not dying.