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There's a general hum on the wards:
Beeps, bells and buzzers
Mixed with carts rolling, drawers opening and
An occasional delirious, “Nurse!”
Rings out, followed by
A soothing reassurance.
It's a measured calm, a sensation of
Without warning a chasm opens wide around us,
The air from our lungs sucked into its depths.
Panicked shouts are followed by
The mood turns tense with the electricity of
Runners pass by, ruffling onlookers' hair
With their breeze, like the
Breath that is missing.
A frenzied pace settles in
Along with a desperate hush.
The chaos turns into a
Resolute cycle of, “1, 2, 3, 4…”
As breaths are squeezed and elixirs infused.
10, 20, 30, 40 minutes tick by and
The silence is peppered only with orders.
The silence is deafening;
The anticipation, immense.
At once the quiet is shattered;
Not by noise, but by movement.
People walk slowly away,
Shoulders slumped and hopes dashed.
Beeps, buzzers and bells begin again,
No longer muted from the urgency.
Carts start to roll, and
As the chasm slams shut,
The sobbing begins.
Competing interests None.
Provenance and peer review Not commissioned; internally peer reviewed.
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