Alone I sit awaiting my time to be called,
A foreign place with faces I do not know,
Anxiety forming in my gut,
Nausea my greeting.
Activity like ants going back and forth,
Each passing me by without a glance,
Moving from point to point in a trance,
Music in the air like a cooling breeze.
Invited here to tell my tale,
Invited to bare my soul,
Invited to help those who come after,
Invited to show the worst of my life.
Life’s journey is strange,
Never knowing where the tides will take you
The end certain but the route unknowing.
So this poem try’s to show what it’s like for me everytime I have to speak about my icu experience. It is taxing on me, it takes a lot of energy to do it. I have been asked why do I do it, why do I volunteer. I can help people by tell my story and that’s reason enough it is a poor human who can help and doesn’t, it is my job as a survivor to help others survive and thrive. To any icu professionals reading this remember a patients journey is not an easy thing to tell and if they share it with you, you should treat it with the respect and deference it deserves.
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