Compos Mentis
Cross your fingers we used to say
as kids, when we heard the siren
saw an ambulance racing somewhere
blow your nose we said and hope
(because it rhymed) you never go
In one of those
Except of course, unless you’re dying
and that’s a good enough reason
perhaps to dial 111 although nice
if someone else can do it for you
because it’s tricky assessing life
and death when you’re worried
about inconveniencing everyone
So, we were super impressed with
the 20 something driver who backed
down our driveway (you have to see
the tricky bend at the top to get this)
right almost to our front door
and oh golly, I wonder what the
neighbours were thinking
the teenager (well he looked that
age) with dreadlocks, head paramedic
entered our shoeless house in his boots
(it wasn’t a good time to announce our
house rules)
followed by a bright-faced young woman
who as it turned out was a trainee
and full of smiles - they all were
lots of explanations, questions, kindness
and nek minnit I’m in the back of the
ambulance (no chance to cross my fingers
or even blow my nose) and the trainee
girl full of smiles is putting in her very
first canula OUCH but hey, there’s a
first time for everything me in the ambo
and her with the canula
hubby hot on our tail in his car
Would you like some fentanyl? I was surprised
such a nice offer and in shock I declined
worried that I might be out to it before we
arrived at the hospital and I wanted to be
compos mentis (you know, so I could explain
to the doctors just how I was feeling) and now
on reflection I wish I’d said, yes thank you
Anyway, it wasn’t life threatening even if
It had felt like it at the time with a heart rate
out of control, chest pressure and woozy woozy
Like I was dying I told my GP a week or so
later … when she explained I’d had a bad
reaction to the antibiotics she’d prescribed
And Hutt Hospital has to be nicest
place (via the back door) if you think you
might be dying
a curious half hour 
I enjoyed that, the dreads, the boots, your driveway. Glad you were okay in the end. A few years ago I had occasion to call an ambulance as I was in excruciating pain. I was offered fentanyl, it was shot up my nose. Instant pain relief, it was magic. Lasted 20 minutes enough to get me to hospital where they gave me another blast up the nose.
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I enjoyed that, the dreads, the boots, your driveway. Glad you were okay in the end. A few years ago I had occasion to call an ambulance as I was in excruciating pain. I was offered fentanyl, it was shot up my nose. Instant pain relief, it was magic. Lasted 20 minutes enough to get me to hospital where they gave me another blast up the nose.
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Jeepers,Maggie!!!! Your self awareness even at such a moment is one of the great gifts you bring with such a poem. And what a poem. Coffee!
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Morena, Rachel and yes please, coffee!!
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I like your sense of humour and poetry to make light of a situation that could’ve turned your smile upside down.
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Thanks, Suzanne … everything is material for a poet I guess and in retrospect, it’s easy to see the comedy – but hey, I lived to tell the tale, so no real
harm done (and great good care taken of me for which I am exceedingly grateful).
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Pleased you were able to create a poem about it. Everything looks less chaotic in retrospect. The medical teams do give wonderful professional care and I wish we could sing their praise more often.
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I hear you. I was so impressed with the respect and care I received.
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