I wrote this nonsense ten years ago when I was hospitalised with lung disease. It seems appropriate now.
With abject apologies to T.S Elliot.
She came to me in the ICU
I was weak and struggling for breath
hope it seemed was in short supply
and all roads led to death
but she talked to me of white horses
she took me for walks on the beach
she talked of Michelangelo
and dared me to eat a peach
she sang the songs of mermaids
to the sound of the surf on the sand
took my blood by the thimblefull
from a tube on the back of my hand.
I left one day in a mini cab
far preferable to a hearse
but she remained in the ICU
my wonderful NHS nurse.