~falling down is easy~
~reaching for a helping hand~
~god, oh god~
~where have I landed~
~a man crying out~
~from the bottom of a well~
~it is dark inside my coma dream~
~phantom spirit ghosts I see~
~when I awaken~
~I long for their embrace~
~as those of my own kind~
~they throw me away~
~it is just a~
~bone damned wonder~
~to me~
~the good news is~
~I am able to hobble to the toilet now~
~with the help of my walker thing~
~four times a night~
~twelve steps each way~
~one-two-three-four & rest~
~pain is a bone damned wonder~
~deeper than my need to piss~
~I am possessed of both~
~are possessed of me~
~the bad news is~
~snow, I am cold~
~pain is a bone damned wonder~
~winter in Colorado~
~these hundred & ten pounds of me~
~ache deeper, mark me~
~in waves that didn’t exist~
~seventy-five days ago~
~to the hundred & eighty pounds of me~
~the clinicians sent me a bus pass~
~to this hidey-hole I’m living/dying in~
~the bus stop is four blocks away~
~might as well be in china~
~it’s good solid paper though~
~guess I can use it to start a fire~
~so I won’t freeze to death in this place~
~the so-so news is~
~I am crushed but alive~
~pain is a bone damned wonder~
~that assures me it is so~
~if I ever walk again I swear~
~I will never smash another bug~
~they are my friends here~
~in this warehouse we are kept~
~away from the worst of worst of liars~
~those whom say they are aware~
~& sworn to help the aged, broken & dying~
~the shit-house of my life is on fire~
~those dear ones, emergency services~
~swimming in near & safe waters~
~refuse to splash a bit on these flames~
~they are not ignorant of my plight~
~they are hypocrites, bigots & liars~
~whatever was in me is out~
~that I am alive is a~
~bone damned wonder~
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Tom (WordWulf) Sterner©
~Christmas in bed~
~smiling in spite of it all~
~Mother Teresa Was An Alien~
~the writing is on the wall~
~brother~
~its message so clear~
~a blind man would know it~
~simply because he is blind~
~helpless in the sense of sight~
~as you are with your body crushed~
~she made a thousand calls~
~because she believed in the system~
~no one called her back until today~
~& that was to tell her to knock it off~
~to cease stirring up trouble~
~assessments take time~
~if you run out of that commodity~
~time~
~the assessors smile smugly~
~confidently~
~after all~
~their job is done~
~on the outside looking in~
~where we’ve always been~
~sheriffs, gruff acting men with guns~
~evicting us when we were children~
~Momma pregnant at work~
~daddy at the bar~
~the empirical collective police state~
~had our number~
~our Cherokee ancestors~
~believed in a heaven on earth~
~where the good people~
~in a life after death~
~would return to live simply~
~the evil ones taken away~
~seems like an attractive dream~
~I doubt that place is here~
~there may be such a place though~
~some folks are so good~
~they must be from somewhere else~
~we must do this thing alone~
~there is no room in our spirits for the assessors~
~they have stolen your hair~
~forced you out into the cold~
~your broken body pressed between wheels~
~they are dismissive & afraid~
~it is a high honor~
~to be unwelcome in their camp~
~it is a high honor~
~to be your brother~
~whatever was in me~
~is out~
~I need someone~
~come talk to me~
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~the salt was flat~
~our shadows long~
~he is forever~
~& taller than me~
~An Other~
{Father Song}
~standing the shore~
~arm around my son~
~the Pacific Ocean~
~California~
~licking our boots~
~a long way from Colorado~
~his sister~
~my daughter~
~thousands of miles away~
~just there in Hawaii~
~heart of earth~
~ocean of blood~
~veins of universe~
~a sweet instrument~
~life~
~is it music~
~the tide reminded me~
~its incessant roar~
~falling~
~growing~
~becoming~
~of a power so much~
~stronger than myself~
~impossible to get my arms around~
~yet a reach I was impelled~
~to breathe for~
~to live for~
~to die for~
~feet wet~
~blood pumping~
~ecstatic~
~howling~
~a nuance of knowledge~
~water sea~
~river rivulet~
~it is as my children to me~
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~Jack {real time}~
God willing & all things equal, an adage that has very little to do with people like my brother & me. I started to tell our story in my novel, Momma’s Rain. Jack wouldn’t read it. It hurt too much. He continued to live hard & mean. I intend to finish the series, American Camp: Frail Monsters/Wounded Souls, the chronicle of a family, my brother and me in particular.
He has been in SICU at Denver Health since November 1st. I have been told he has a crushed ribcage and pelvis, arms and legs broken, a perforated colon, punctured lung, pneumonia, and staff infection, etc. He has received a tracheotomy and is on and off the ventilator. Agitated and angry, heavily medicated and sedated, communication has been difficult at best. I’m not sure he remembers the end-over-end automobile crash that landed him in the hospital. He may not understand where he is. He has been through a number of surgeries to date and has years of convalescence to look forward to.
Friday, November 18, I went to visit him. The lights were off in his cubicle. His body was bouncing up and down, legs kicking wildly. An angry nurse informed me I was not allowed in the room to visit him. Our conversation and details of the incident are explained in the following letter which I have sent to administrators, directors, and board members of the hospital.
Jack’s hair is important to him. More than important, it is as religion, a principle he has fought and suffered to keep throughout his life. Beaten by parents, jail keepers, and guards all his life, it is a statement of what he is about, what the battle for life means to him. Sometime within a couple of days after the 18th someone at Denver Health took that from him. I want to know who, why, and when. When he asks, when he is able to ask, I want to be able to explain these things to him. I cannot give him back what those in authority take away. Guess I’m selfish in this case. I want to know why. I want to know who. I want to know when.
23 November 2011
To whom it may concern,
My name is Tom Sterner. I am elder brother to John Sterner who is currently in your SICU #216. John (we call him Jack) was in a horrific end-over-end car crash Nov. 2nd in Commerce City. He was taken to Denver Health and has been in the care of the hospital since the accident. Our family has been unable to effectively communicate with him because he is heavily sedated, in shock, pelvis encased in a cage, tracheotomy, ventilator, etc.
Visiting him over the past three weeks I have noticed a decided difference between the day and night staff in the SICU. Day persons are generally friendly and helpful. The night crew, to put it mildly, have an attitude. Friday night (11/18) I went to visit at approximately 9:30pm. His door was closed and lights off. His bed was bouncing violently. I proceeded to open the door but was cautioned by a blonde nurse behind the counter across from the room not to do so.
“He is alone in there,” I said to her, “terrified and out of his mind. I’m his brother. Let me touch his face, maybe finally understand what he is so desperate to tell me.”
“Oh, he’s talking all right,” the nurse replied indignantly. “It’s very clear to me what he said before he was medicated just now.”
“Yes!,” I exclaimed, “What did he say?”
“Hmph!” hands on hips, anger evident in her every action. “Fuck you!” she said.
“That’s wonderful,” I replied, “He’s fighting for his life, angry and aware. That’s great news!”
She sneered at me. “We don’t have to take that kind of abuse. He also kicks at us. He needs to learn that’s not acceptable.”
“My point of view is that he is waking into a horrible nightmare, unaware of his feet kicking and, yes, cursing his torturers. Please allow me to console my brother.”
“Go ahead, do whatever you want!” she said offhandedly.
My daughter, Christy, and I went into the room and did what we could to calm him down. His arms are restrained to the side rails of the bed. We have been told that he is bolted to the bed as the cage must be rigid to support his pelvis while it is mending. He was extremely agitated. It was clear he wanted us to release the restraints, heartbreaking to realize we were unable to do so because he is in that crazy place and would probably further injure himself. A few minutes later my brother’s son, Jack, went to see his dad. A male nurse and brunette female were standing over the patient, scolding him, “We don’t kick the bed and nurses in Denver Health SICU!”
We are of Cherokee descent. Our hair is a sacred component of our spirituality, what folks think of as religion. A number of times my daughters asked to wash their uncle’s hair so they could comb it and put it into a braid. The nurses’ answer was always no because he is too agitated, can’t sit up right now, etc. Monday morning (11/21) my youngest daughter asked for a cool cloth to wipe the sweat from Jack’s face when he was brought back to his room and could she please brush and braid his hair.
“That was all taken care of last night,” a nurse (Nicole) said tersely.
They took my brother’s hair. They scold him as if he were an impudent child. They act as if he walked in, healthy and hale, strong of voice, flinging epithets into their faces and threatening them physically.
Reading your Patient Rights statement, specifically: B. Receive care and treatment that is respectful, recognizes your dignity, cultural and personal values and religious beliefs, provides for your personal privacy to the extent possible during the course of treatment, and promotes a positive self-image.
And Q: Receive care that is free from neglect, exploitation, verbal, mental, or physical abuse, or conditions that are not safe.
My brother is fighting for his life, being tormented and punished because of his lack of decorum in SICU. It is amazing he is alive, a testament that the doctors attending him know their business and that he is engaged in the battle. Please address the drama and abuse in SICU. His body is torn, dignity has been ripped from his head. I want his hair. We are not trash.
I fear for my brother’s life and have called your Patients Advocate phone number this morning. I listened to a recording, made its only numerical choice other than 911. I left my contact number with the robot and wonder if and when I will hear from someone representing Denver Health, maybe a whisper that my brother’s life is worth saving.
Officer Chris Dickey (#2905 303-289-3755) from Commerce City has also been to visit Jack several times. He is in charge of the investigation of the crash. I realize these “professionals” have a job to do but shouldn’t saving Jack’s life be the number one priority?
My brother’s son, Jack Sterner, is the first contact as far as making decisions regarding his father. His phone number is 720-364-3171.
I am second contact 530-605-1225 (cell phone 720-270-1602).
Neither of us were consulted in the matter of taking, of stealing, my brother’s hair.That, of course, is a matter of record.
Concerned and waiting your reply,
Tom Sterner
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~Unexpected/Delightful~
~water splashing from the hose~
~filling the dog’s dish~
~I sensed a pleasant sound~
~lifted my head up~
~through the yard gate I saw~
~a young boy in the driveway~
~wandering aimlessly~
~staring down at his shoes~
~singing~
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©artwork & words conceived by & property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner©
~in loving memory of Momma~
~love, hope & prayers for brother Jack~
~deepest devotion to my children & grandchildren~
~Family Thanksgiving~
~a basket full of hugs & kisses~
~a piece of cherry pie~
~a warm smile on a cold morning~
~a place to go & cry~
~stories to tell & secrets to keep~
~those kites that refuse to fly~
~holidays at Grandma’s~
~& there’s Grandpa’s knee to ride~
~a symphony of tiny voices~
~pictures hanging on the wall~
~loneliness & happiness~
~bathtubs in the hall~
~beginnings & birthdays~
~& fires in the fall~
~those letters that say, “I miss you~
~I miss you most of all”~
~all the fourth of Julys exploding~
~& when there’s a scraped-up knee~
~magick kisses chase the pain away~
~& cats up in the tree~
~new shoes & hand-me-downs~
~those brand new glasses, “I can see!”~
~fighting & loving & loving & fighting~
~the past that’s the past of “me”~
~bicycles & training wheels~
~& time gets in the way~
~fairy tales & teeth under pillows~
~that place where the old dog lays~
~special seats to sit & blankets to hold~
~report cards & bright sunny days~
~little pockets full of bugs & bolts~
~picnics & camping & weekends away~
~where some friends belong & some are just friends~
~all kinds of neat stuff to share~
~noses & roses & photograph poses~
~everyone’s favorite chair~
~countless messes made by “Mister No One”~
~the search for the three-legged teddy bear~
~pennies in couches, pencils & cookies~
~the feeling: there’s always someone who cares~
~it’s you I’m really talking about~
~& the others I’d like to see~
~what we are is what it really means~
~to be part of a family~
~I guess drifting apart is natural~ ~the way Gods intend it to be~
~to be apart and a part, full circle~
~is to be part of a family~
~we all must grow in our own direction~
~surely we must strive to be free~
~but ever so often we should meet & remember~
~what it means to be family~
~it is you I’m really talking about~
~the pieces of you that are me~
~the pride I feel in the sharing~
~being part of a family~
~Family Thanksgiving was published by Mel Brakes Press 2010~
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~he is fallen hard~
~my dearest brother~
~tomorrow I follow the trail~
~of our Cherokee blood~
~from this place~
~California~
~to rejoin him~
~lend my spirit to his healing~
~1400 miles~
~to our Colorado~
~speak a word if you will~
~in his favor~
~& mine~
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~My Heaven }Etude)~
~my heaven is escape me~
~my heaven is escape me~
~my heaven is escape me, brother~
~my heaven is a woman~
~my heaven is a suckling child~~another man’s shame~
~another man’s glory~
~ye-ah~
~my heaven ‘e been gone for a while~
{go out laughing}
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~elders & infants~
~learning to know one another~
~understanding~
~they are the same~
~dependent as separate hues~
~vibrant as each string~
~the chord humming~
~life~
~IX. A Tender Wrapping~
{excerpted from ~Quodlibet~}
~standing up for pennies~
~all hail at a dollar down~
~these blankets a~
~hundred pound weight~
~strive to earn alive a shroud~
~a safe place to bury your worried face~
~o children learn to walk away~
~plant your seeds~
~your garden of youth~
~be tall & good to yourselves~
~those older whom look away~
~may be kind & understanding~
~ever useful in the odd circumstance~
~such as surviving under siege~
~construction of birthing & burial blankets~
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~the epic poem, Quodlibet was published by Howling Dog Press~
~Into Black~
~was a time when words did carry~
~notions of love from yours to mine~
~it even saw the lovers marry~
~mine to yours and yours to mine~
~& many a soft glass of wine~
~was spilled and drank inside the walls~
~joyous parties and happy times~
~they touched us, touched us, one and all~
~I heard you hearing, going back~
~I saw you seeing into black~
~into black~
~in quiet repose the mistress fell~
~& yet she did not fall alone~
~the earth shook as she went to hell~
~still I can t find her in my home~
~oh oh, she surely used to come to see~
~& happily drink this tainted wine~
~she knew someday that she would be~
~mine to yours & yours to mine~
~I felt her as she felt the rack~
~she kissed me~
~then turned into black~
~into black~
~I remember how the dying went~
~the howling wind whispering please~
~our life s blood was spilled & spent~
~the times had brought us to our knees~
~when cousins married cousins there~
~from out the bottom of the line~
~I heard the begging in your stare~
~mine to yours & yours to mine~
~I said we burned the bodies and we hid the facts~
~you know we turned them into black - Into black~
~tomorrow’s sun still shines today~
~yesterday’s sun is in your eyes~
~all death’s children have come to play~
~& steal that garden in the sky~
~see they re empty behind the masques~
~shivering coldness in their breath~
~they answer what we’d never ask~
~& laugh themselves from life to death~
~are the soldiers coming back~
~see them, free them, into black~
~Into black~
~see them begging into black~
~into black~
~see them~
~free them~
~into black~
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