What kind of a life is it, that all I can do, is lie here, on this mechanical bed that props up and down, as I’m using my fingers to work the buttons?
What kind of a life is it, that I’d needed to, watch people (those called, medical “professionals”), checking my pulse every few seconds, to make sure, that it’s still there, rhythmic?
What kind of a life is it, that I can’t even, go out, to enjoy the things I used to love, that I’d have to, rely on these tubes in and out of my body, to keep me alive? What kind of a life is it, that I’m, living right now? There’s, absolutely, NO quality to speak of!!!
What kind of a life is it, when there’s, nothing you can do, but, stare up at the high ceilings, as the nurses’ aides come and go, into the hospital wards, to flip you over, to make sure that you don’t get bedsores?
This, is NOT a way to live, so, why can’t I just be, PUT to sleep? Because based off of medical definitions, I don’t qualify as a “lost cause”???
