The corridors of death
Benjamin Sansom
Unnatural lights illuminate the interminable tunnels
and yet is it still so dark.
She cries, as I do,
her screams taunt my protective right,
I am helpless; mine trapped in my head,
Powerful, but reduced to a muted whimper.
My fake strength, for her sake, is dying as she does.
Windows of bad art and distant landscapes
Sneer at us; their failed distraction in conflict with our condition,
Just as their form and function antagonise each other.
Life-savers saunter past us, laughing with each other,
Barely noticing; our lives need saving.
How many mothers have walked where I walk
Suppliant for life, seeing the light at the end of the corridor
Opening to obscurity.
We also talked about how a termination had been a possibility in the early stages of pregnancy. This mother told me that there was never a chance of this happening and that she wouldn’t change anything about the way her life has turned out, despite the obvious deleterious, straining effects on her own wellbeing, the family’s wellbeing and their social wellbeing. Her daughter’s birthday was approaching and she feared that it would be her last.
I have chosen to write a poem about the internal struggle faced by this stoic mother during their hospital experiences, when there is uncertainty as to whether her daughter will survive.
The poem also features hospital corridors as the unnatural lighting and acoustics, with walls covered up by images of beautiful landscapes and artwork has always struck me as unsettling and sinister. The vanity of this aesthetic is always apparent to me, especially when considering what the mother must be thinking whilst her daughter is being wheeled down the corridors; no paintings on the walls could ever disguise her alley of misery as some place cheery.
I was originally going to draw/paint a piece of art, but the irony of commenting on the hospital art through my terrible art dissuaded me, and so I have chosen a poem as it will allow me to write about what I think could be going on inside the mind of the mother in a time of such despair.
I find this poem very thought-provoking – many people struggle in a hospital environment because they find it too clinical and sterile. I am aware of local projects to decorate hospitals and make them appear more homely, making patients feel more comfortable and at ease (particularly common in paediatric wards). These normally receive praise and appreciation, so it is interesting to hear these efforts dismissed as “bad art” and a “failed distraction”. It is a reminder that true care comes in how healthcare workers interact with and support patients and their caregivers – not through pretending there is hope through colour and decorations. We must acknowledge people’s suffering in order to help them through it, not cover it up with pretty pictures.
This poem resonated with me due to the stark contrast between the genuine warmth when the mother describes her child, evoked for a reader through apt lexical choices such as the possessive pronoun “my” and the phrase “protective right”, and later the artificiality of attempted warmth through the hospital with ‘bad art’. The atmosphere attempting to appear positive with its “failed distraction” seems to reflect the mother’s ‘fake strength’ perhaps reminiscent of suppressed emotions and even further when thought of in a clinical context the idea of the clinical iceberg could be evoked with this hidden aspect often overlooked. The use of pathos causes the reader to feel empathy for the mother as she is left unable to help.
The frequent use of enjambment creates the feeling that thoughts are running through the mother’s head thus evoking a claustrophobic feel as though the illness is not only all consuming for the child but also in the family life as is expressed by the poet in the transcript below thus making it an effective use of this device.
Overall this piece is very thought provoking and reminds us to see the patient as a being with other connections who are also impacted though their healthcare experiences. Furthermore I thought that this piece is also transferable to other clinical encounters not just those of a mother-child relationship.
This poem has reflected the emotional weight felt by the observed patient through the poem. I really appreciate how the poem explores what a patient’s perspective might be in a hospital, especially a patient who has experienced emotional difficulty. It forces the reader to see the difficult emotions that a patient might feel in that patients position, which perhaps as bystanders we might miss.
I was drawn to this thought-provoking piece, initially by the photograph but the poem further encouraged me to reflect upon the situation. The unsettling and sinister photograph accompanies an equally heart-wrenching poem. The photograph captures how many people feel not only uncomfortable but some have a fear of a hospital environment, especially when it is associated with difficult experiences such as the mother in the poem who is close to losing her child.
It is interesting to hear how the effort of healthcare workers to try and make the environment more positive isn’t always appreciated by patients and family – labelled as a ‘failed distraction’. It is evident the mother is struggling and serves as a reminder to us to check in on those who may not be the direct patient but who may be just as affected by the situation. This reminded me of the concept we have recently discussed of the clinical iceberg whereby only a small percentage of those will healthcare problems will seek professional help.
This piece encapsulates the emotional stress experienced by parents of hospitalised children using a detailed account of the moment-by-moment perception of a mother walking down a hallway with her disabled daughter. A recurring theme is that of nihilistic hopelessness; the mother’s show of strength is superficial, and the hospital is nothing more than the place where her daughter will soon die. Moreover, there is great emphasis placed on the extent to which this mother’s experience is a common one, which is emphasised further by the depiction of the nearby healthcare workers’ casual and unemotional attitude towards the matter. Effectively, the reader is made to adopt the position of many mothers who routinely experience this same level of distress within the healthcare system.
This poem captures what it is like to be a carer for someone who is critically unwell, and fully encapsulates the accompanying terror someone in this position would experience. The use of descriptions of the hospital environment further add depth to the poem, as the bleak, bare surroundings just exacerbate the feelings of the carer. Hospitals can often feel like endless grey corridors, and what is sometimes the worst day of a person’s life is just another day in the life of the people who work there.