A poem by Dr Sara Sienna
Forgive me, but I think this is my therapy.
Because the hands that type – they felt his ribs crack.
And I paused, before I swiftly carried on.
I’m just a Doctor – not Sara when I’m bringing hearts back.
Forgive me, but I think I was too slow.
It took a moment just to get into the flow
I paused and I um’d and it only lasted seconds
But now he’s dead and I really don’t know.
Forgive me, for I should have lead the call.
But I’m not senior, I’m the most junior of them all
And in the moment I simply let it carry on
Instead of boldly speaking up and standing tall
Forgive me, but I can’t answer all your questions
Because I’m too lost to find the perfect words to say
I’m not familiar with the coroners process
and I’m so sorry that your loved one passed away.
Forgive me, but I haven’t shed a tear
Neither have they, but I will judge myself some more.
I am trying not to think about the gravity of his life
I must detatch from yet another crash call.
Forgive me, but I did just shed a tear
A river mourns the heartfelt girl I used to be.
Because the moment that we pronounced the time of death
I moved along to the next patient needing me.
Forgive me but I’ve washed my hands again
5th time, so why can I still feel his skin?
Forgive me but I do not want to talk
Forgive me, because I think I want a drink.
Forgive me, but I don’t want to work tomorrow.
Because I cried and now I do not wish to stop.
I do not want to be that numb and that professional
I want my innocence. I want to feel the lot.
Forgive me, but I am praying for his soul
We’re ‘not religious’, but Lord I prayed through it all.
Through the fear, through the numb and unresponsive
Through the darkness that is the failed crash call.
Forgive me, but by God’s grace I’ll wake tomorrow
I will smile, do my job and move along
The moment this poem ends, in order help other patients mend
I have no choice but to forgive and carry on