The Boy in the Bed

In a ward of grumpy old men there was one who was much younger. Almost half my age (a little over 30) but looking half of even this. Severely disabled he did not speak, face mask to aid breathing up often removed with deliberate yet uncontrolled hands. Whatever his needs they were mental and physical and he was in pain.

6am awoken to the sound of beeping.

Nurses arrive.

Hushed tones.

Curtains closed.



He will remain nameless.

It is not a death for me to share by name.

Preparation, washing.

Time passes. Curtains remain closed.

Life goes on around death.

Breakfast is served.

People wash.

Beds are made.

Tea is drunk.

Blood is taken.

Doctors on rounds consult the Grumpy men (not me today)

Who argue the toss.

They want to go home.

The Family arrive.

They stay.

There are Tears. There is Grief.

They leave

More washing.

The body departs to the morgue.

Passing peacefully into the night.

Into God’s care.

3 thoughts on “The Boy in the Bed

  1. It’s so sad seeing a lot of suffering all around the world. Some people ask themselves- Why is there a lot of suffering, even for very young people? Are we meant to suffer? Is there an end to it all?

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