QEU Glasgow 27th of December 2017

I brought John Clare to the waiting room -
company, consolation, a word. He knew dark,
how fear enfolds, noise intrudes.

Eleven days earlier, they took me in -
X-rayed my hand and knee
tended my fears, cared for me.

They were busy, pressed, under pressure
pre-Christmas fractures, celebrations
early cold.

Did I fall on Glasgow’s icy streets?
No, I said, Alicante’s gritty hills
sunshine and sea.

From the trauma nurse who held my icy hand,
to ambulance crew who chair lifted me up forty steps
support, sympathy, advice.

And banter!
You maybe, aye, should have
stayed in the pub!

Today is my final check-up,
I’m greeted by smiles; take a seat, do you need assistance?
There is a short delay.

I let the poems take me walking at dusk,
rejoicing in the skylark, soft breezes,
subdued light. I imagine moving freely.

Yes, you can be discharged – the consultant says,
no more visits, you’re doing great!
I join my hands in fervent thanks.

Poem contributed by Rona Fitzgerald

Photo by Aleksei Ieshkin on Unsplash