During the ordeal of Chucks' two hospitalizations I wrote poetry.   He was fighting hard and I stayed at his side but was left with fears, questions, recriminations, anger, and helplessness.   Hospital staff was there for him, visitors were there for him.   I had friends come and I shared with them but there was usually so much information to transfer and I needed to be strong, to STAY strong.   When the cracks in my resolve would seep in it would be he and I alone in his room, or as we were waiting for a test to begin/conclude, or rounds to begin/conclude, or nursing ministrations to begin/conclude.   There were the many days when he was intubated and sedated, many hours looking at him, realizing the days were now numbered, that so much time had been squandered, that this mountain of a man was slipping from me, from this earth.

The words poured out in poems fully formed as if I was a just a vehicle for them to arrive.   Some I worked on, some I left as is.    I will be sharing them, in no particular order, with grammatical and spelling errors.    I’m sharing because I know I’m not alone in this nightmare.