Hello Christina. I have lnown patients like this just wanting peace and
quiet and so little you get in busy wards. People just want peace when they
are ill. Illness makes some irritable. A lot of truth in this poem. The
geriatric child with finger wings is good as is the plump dog collar too.
People do need spritual comfort at times like this but how dismayed I was
when a catholic priest by passes my bed. Made me wonder why.
No laughter allowed is a thought provoking last line. Bw Sally j
>From: Christina Fletcher <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New sub: Mr M
>Date: Mon, 17 Oct 2005 18:20:28 EDT
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>Mr M
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>By the ward's window, he reads yesterday's Daily Mail. From his bed, he
>sees his flat in Westminster. He has an allergy to chocolates and likes
>nothing
>better than silence.
>
>He gives upmarket tongue: the blinds too high, sunlight too bright; he
>needs
>a commode. Thank you. Most kind. His ears prick up in search of
>irritation. The world unsettles peace.
>
>A priest comes from time to time. After a while, they pray: the wordless
>geriatric child with finger wings and the plump dog collar, entrusted with
>god
>knows, who leaves sooner than later.
>
>The ward reverts to silence. No laughter allowed.
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>christina fletcher
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