Another in my operation sequence. This poem describes the admission process.
Admission
Report to the Admissions Suite.
Ignore the time on the letter,
come at three o’ clock,
then you won’t have to wait long
for a bed.
Admissions Suite sounds too much like
Departure Lounge. A holiday. Sunshine.
You came with me, worried sick,
wanting a last kiss, a wave goodbye…
Then I was alone.
Four of us in the ward. Three
already processed, showing off
their zipper chests. Coughing.
Jokey. Don’t worry you’ll be fine.
Take the sedative.
The nurse gave me four bottles
of energy drink. Two for now,
two in the morning. The anaesthetist
came by, weighed me up.
Then the pill and sleep.