Sunday, April 26, 2015

Nothing

Nothing.  I hated that word.

“There is nothing we can do,” we heard countless times from a variety of specialists.

When I first showed up at the hospital, I asked if he was awake yet.  Nothing.  That was what I got.  No response.  “Why isn’t he awake?  When will he wake up?”  Again, nothing.  No response.

Nothing.  That’s what they knew.

We transferred to a different hospital with supposedly better doctors.  At least they gave us a response.  But there was that word again.  Nothing.  There is nothing that can be done.  There is no activity in the brain.  The machine is making his heart beat and making his lungs fill with oxygen, but there is nothing going on in the brain.  Callous.  Hurtful.

I held my dad’s hand when they unplugged all of the machines.  His heart beat its last, and his lungs refused to inflate, and then there was… nothing.  Nothing but tears.

The prompt at Sunday Scribblings this week was... nothing.

5 comments:

Old Egg said...

How many people must have gone though this agony of saying goodbye to silence. Whenever we lose someone we must always think of the joy that having them with us for even a short time was a privilege and the hurt we feel is love.

Linda Jacobs said...

Oh, yeah, been there! It's a sad poem but my dad popped into my head and I always smile when I think of him so thanks!

Giggles said...

So sorry for your loss! That's always a tough one...hopefully there was no suffering at the end... poignant piece of writing..

Hugs Giggles

Magical Mystical Teacher said...

You did a masterful job with the prompt. Sometimes there's nothing we can do with loss, but weep.

Magical Mystical Teacher said...

You did a masterful job with the prompt. Sometimes there's nothing we can do with loss, but weep.

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