She stood at the desk sorting papers
MY throat was parched, my lips were dry,
my tongue felt like paper, dehydrated
I begged her to change my IV line
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” she said.
”These papers are important, I have to
get them done before my shift is over,
maybe when I’m finished if I have the time
I’ll come and see to you.”
Trip after trip I made to the nurses’ station
My sight was blurred, my strength was failing me
They stood around pretending to be busy doing nothing
After eight hours they took their bags and left
while I laid in bed completely dehydrated and near death
They were no Florence Nightingale, or Mary Seacole
They were just nurses, no creatures, with hearts made of stone.
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Author Marva Seaton 