Travelogue

Travelogue

The following two pieces were inspired by the first few days of my trip when I was sick with the flu. They describe the process of my time in the UCC Hospital (http://www.cuh.hse.ie) and of the following days I would spend in my bed at the Jury’s Inn (https://www.jurysinns.com). While this wasn't my favorite part of this experience in any way, it inspired me to write. It was very easy to describe the experience back because it was so foreign to me. I hope that these poems bring you back in time to these moments with me. 

From Blue to Red

I feel hot

So hot I may pass out

but cole at the same time

Battling the constant changes of my temperature make me weak

I lay there, all white room, with bright blinding lights controlling my blurred vision

People come and go, poke and prod, speak to me in different languages

But I can’t listen, I’m petrified

I’ve never thoroughly enjoyed a doctors visit

Never have even been to the hospital

But this in a new country seems like my worst nightmare

I’m lucky I keep telling myself

I’m young and have my health

But all that plays in my head are the NY Times articles about deaths by influenza

What are the odds?

Probably me

That’s my pessimistic and neurotic side coming out as the nurse readies the needle

 I clench the cold metal bar on the stretcher and shake uncontrollably as I’ve been doing all morning

“Are you alright dear, I’ve been told I’m pretty good at this”, she says as she finds my vein

Wow I want to pass out as the pain of the prick jerks me awake

I can’t look

As blue turns to red, I turn to white

Heart beating 1000 times over

But then a calm comes over me

I see the drip

drip

drip of the plastic bag hanging above my head

I breath deeply

I’m euphoric as the magic liquid turns my arm numb

I touch it, it’s cold and my heart races again

My first I.V. I don't know what to expect

This hand, this arm doesn't feel like my own

It’s some useless, cold, detached limb thats part of my sick body

This too shall pass I repeat in my head and sigh

Waiting for the unknown is the worst part

Picture: The Irish Times

This Bed

Cloudy skies and passing cars

Traffic noise and cigarette smoke

White comforter thrashed from the previous sleepless nights

pillows, clothes, thrown

A bed I would usually crave has turned into my own personal hell

I will sit here in this bed for 72 hours before I leave 

My only journey abroad in sight is to the lobby and back

To this bed again

This bed will make me go insane I think

This bed will make me go insane I think

Comfort is a foreign feeling

Fresh air has turned into a craving

Picture: Gabi Piombo