Death and the Poet

Forgive me, I am a little sleep deprived (but not overly so). I got to bed late last night (1.00 am, which is late for me now that I am 40). At about 2.00 am I was awakened by the loud rumbling of the fire engine and the ambulance. I looked out my window and saw two police vehicles as well, respectfully NOT flashing their lights within my condominium complex. I knew immediately why they were here. My next door neighbor has had a myriad of health issues ever since I have known her. Diabetes, dialysis, on oxygen, a catheter in her leg to better facilitate the dialysis three times per week. She was also deaf in one ear (prompting an ongoing, though cordial, feud between us when her TV got so loud I couldn't concentrate on watching my own TV.) Every time I called her to turn down her TV (which wasn't all that often, since I empathized with her situation) she was pleasant and immediately complied. She would sometimes call me to fix her TV or if she was having strange medical symptoms and just wanted someone else to be with her. She got confused a lot. Sometimes, I would come over simply to remind her to call her doctor or her PCA. I have no medical training. There was nothing I could do to help other than be there and let her know that everything was going to be okay.

Last summer her leg cath bled out so badly, the carpet in her living room had to be replaced. She spent many weeks in a nursing home and I cared for her cat, Twinkie, while she was away. It always bothered me that her doctors or family or the health insurance conglomerate couldn't see that she needed to be in a watched situation. A nursing home, living with family, something. She forgot to eat sometimes (which for a diabetic can be fatal). Apparently she was too sick to be home alone, yet not sick enough to be permanently assigned to a nursing home. I can't help but wonder what role the health insurance companies played in this ridiculous situation she was in.

Last night, her leg cath bled out again. The EMS techs believe she had a heart attack prior to bleeding out and was dead on the scene. Is it odd that my first concern, while up at 2.30 am in the freezing cold talking to the police was "what will happen to her cat?" She loved that cat. That poor thing (skittish as she is) was hiding somewhere in the condo, but I wasn't allowed to go in to try and find her because there was too much blood and it wasn't safe. Far be it from me, to WANT to walk into what essentially seemed like a scene from one of the CSI or Law and Order shows, but I also had visions of this long-haired cat traipsing through her owner's blood-soaked sheets trying to find her. Fortunately, my neighbor's daughter was able to retrieve the cat this morning.

My dark side tried to cheer me up by reassuring me that at least I won't have to deal with the overly loud TV anymore. My good side immediately felt the need to do many forms of penance for that thought. Here is a poem in her honor.


On the Death of an Infirm yet Cheerful Neighbor

when late at night the alarm sounded
she touched her troubled leg
confounded by the blood

memories of summer’s infirmary
struck her brain first like lightening
frightening her into panic

her heart was shocked
too much to handle
it stopped to let the blood flow out

the relief of her life fading fast
perhaps she briefly raged against
the dying of the light - if only

for her beloved feline companion --
resigned by her owner’s waning energy
she hid when the trucks arrived for the body

ltv
2/15/2010