To the Tower

                                      Jonathan Billinger, Gloucestershire Royal Hospital​

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Twenty years have elapsed since the first frightening time
   that I entered the grim Gloucester tower –
Ward 9B, windows smeared with the dark-specked white slime
   of the hawks, who let loose as they glower.

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Pigeons totter and flutter like anxious heart beats;
   they’re the hunted, yet loiter, peer in.
Do they see all the bedpans, bedpads and bedsheets;
   broken lives, broken bones, broken skin?

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One small slip, and an ambulance brings me back here,
   so I have to be ready to go.
To the tower! Bags prepacked, and now, without fear,
   I can face, once again, the same show.

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Forthcoming on Word-Bird’s World

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This is just another little scene-setting poem; thanks again to Word-Bird for the acceptance! The hospital tower is not, perhaps, the prettiest building, though recently I learned that it has undergone a facelift, according to the BBC. That’s just the external refurbishment element of the construction project, though. A lot of wards works are ongoing; the article is here.

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My first stay on Ward 9B took place through the summer of 2006. My rheumatologist at the time had decided that matters were out of control and I ought to be in hospital for a while. Unfortunately matters rapidly worsened as soon as I entered the hospital, and it was a great relief when I was allowed to go home again. I find that a lot of consultants are rather out of touch with what can be achieved on the wards, bearing in mind staff numbers and training.

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Next: Crossing Paths