A patient in the hallway.
In her hospital gown.
All day.
Panhandling.
And everyone walked by her.
Some giving her change from their pockets.
But no one bothering to question.
Why she is panhandling.
In the hallway.
Near the elevator.
Why no one is looking for her.
And helping her back to her room.
I flagged down a nurse.
But she wasn't her patient.
And I had other patients to see.
And when I saw her again.
Three hours later.
Still in the same place.
I asked another resident.
But she wasn't her patient.
She didn't have a bracelet.
Which might mean she wasn't a patient at all.
Or might mean she tore it off.
Or might not mean anything.
She wouldn't tell me her name.
And I had other patients to see.
I heard someone else.
Saying she saw her too.
But she had other patients to see.
I don't know what happened.
I haven't been back to that floor.
I assume someone dealt with it.
Though I probably shouldn't.
I would check again.
But I have other patients to see.
Friday, October 7, 2011
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Couldn't you (or anyone else) just have called hospital security?
ReplyDeleteloved the poem.
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