The Temperature Of Coma

Staggering down the hallway

Feet curled over you broke your flip flop.

Struggling to speak,

I didn’t know what was to come.

Swaying side to side on the sofa

Talking gibberish like a drunk,

I thought it was the Morphine,

I didn’t know what was to come.

Seemingly eternal wait for the ambulance,

Your body lurched forward in slow motion,

You crumpled and hit the floor.

I didn’t move, I didn’t know what was to come.

Racing through the dark under the blue light

Into the bright lights of the emergency room.

Drowning in hospital staff

I didn’t know what was to come.

You slipped into sleep,

Hands warm and clammy,

Fully intubated to breathe, tubes for feeding tubes for drinking,

I didn’t know what was to come.

For long days and nights I visited

Relentless efforts to wake you, reading, music, love.

Warm hands comforting, our only connection

A small movement imagined, a flicker of acknowledgment,

I had no idea what was to come.

Our final night together, I knew what was to come.

Touched tenderly every exposed part of you over and over so I wouldn’t forget,

Body warm and comforting, neck solid, heated, real, alive.

I ignored what was to come.

The dark day the tube was pulled from your throat

Left to drift, depart, exit your body,

Heat faded, quickly cooling, sticky,

Skin losing its vital colour.

Laying in a stark bare room until the final moment.

A quick tentative kiss from our daughter, goodbye.

Scared by the rasps and crackles of your unassisted lungs.

2 days before she turned 7, Happy Birthday.

It came.

The bleakest moment with a bitter chill.

Heartbroken.