She begged for death three times daily
February 15th, 2006
By Archived Story
Once in the morning
When we pushed, pulled, and wiped
Her spotted yellow skin.
Again in the afternoon
As we hoisted her fetal body
From chair to bed.
And once more in the evening
While we stripped her,
Snapped on her gown, and bid her a goodnight.
She didn’t work anymore.
I heard once that she had been a teacher
Years ago.
She never played although I assumed
The faded black and white photos
Of a vibrant young girl were her.
I hadn’t heard her talk much
Except, of course, to plead with God
Or to curse me as I wiped the feces from her body.
I asked her once about her family;
Having never seen anyone visit, I was curious.
She said, “This is a nice room; is it for rent?”
Occasionally her heart would stop
And I would think her prayers had finally been answered.
Then her Pacemaker would kick in and she would go on begging for death.
Four times a day now.
