Yearning to be Whole Again Erica Caleca 1. yearning to be whole again There is no sound of silence When I think of hospitals, I think of white walls, linoleum floors, clocks ticking Always busy, people moving in and out of rooms, hallways The IV the nurse inserts as you lay in the bed, feeling that little sharp pinch in the crook of your arm or on your hand Seeing wires connect you to these machines, feeling small in the bed even though you know your own size Seeing people getting wheeled into rooms in chairs, on beds hearing the fast walk of people who move with this urgency, hearing the slow gait of people who know they have time, hearing constant beeping from the machines, from the monitors Hearing voices over the phone, from the intercoms, whispers from one nurse to the next, from doctor to doctor, the hushed tones of those speaking to those who are grieving There’s one thing that I haven’t heard in the hospital: the eerie flatlining wail from the monitors I haven’t heard that, I haven’t had a reason to. Visiting my grandfather, all I heard was the television, the monitors, his breathing, my breathing. And when he died, it happened in his home, and I was outside of his room. I didn’t hear anything besides the sadness of my aunt, of my grandma. I see in his fragility, something
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