Devanshi Shah, MBBS
Seth GS Medical College and KEM Hospital, Mumbai
The bed is being emptied in front of me.
I sigh, I ponder.
Yesterday his vitals were improving
And today his oxygen tumbled.
He didn't open his eyes.
Neither did his wife, apparently,
In the room next door.
I close my eyes too, the sight too much for me to bear.
There's white noise all around me, a silence which screams, an agony only I can hear.
When I remove my mask at the end of the shift,
The lines are etched in my face.
Not the lines of the mask, no,
Lines of worry around my eyes,
Frowns on my forehead.
I look like I have aged from 24 to 42,
With every death adding a year to my age.
Around me, there's only white noise,
Only weak wails from the heartbroken.
I remove my gown carefully,
A bath from head to toe,
As if the water can rinse the memories,
Which the day has left in me.
As if the soap can erase the claw marks,
Which Death leaves in its wake.
Even when the water tumbles down from the faucet,
I hear nothing, only white noise.
My heart beats erratically,
Everytime I pass by the ER,
Who will come in now?
Friend or foe?
Will I have to see them in the ICU?
It's as if my breaths are getting shallower,
As my mind rushes through the last few days,
Wives praying, children consoling,
Tears escaping, and hands shuddering.
No goodbyes were said, there were no sounds, only white noise all around.
I return the next day,
It's hotter than usual, as I don the gown,
Sweat trickles down my forehead,
In anticipation of more deaths.
My chest tightens at thoughts,
Of how dark and empty their eyes look,
As they stare Death in the face.
Even when I'm pumping oxygen into their unwilling lungs,
I'm trying, I'm trying.
I'm shouting, pleading them to come back,
But they can't hear me, it's only white noise all around.
As the cursed clock's hands ticked by,
Nearing noon again,
I decided to confront my demons.
It was what I'd suspected.
I lay down in the very bed I'd seen being emptied,
After all, the very disease I fought against,
Came back to me with vengeance.
I don't close my eyes, worried,
That it might be the last time I open them.
On the other side of the wall,
I see my mother saying something.
She says, she's praying for me.
I wish I could hear her right now.
But it's all white noise around me.