Last Thoughts

What were you were you thinking as you heard the police on the other side of the locked door as they tried to reason with you in steady firm voices to put down the knife?

What were you thinking in that split second as they broke the door and you chose slit your throat with such force that you sliced your windpipe in half?

What were you thinking as you began to bleed out on the floor? Did you see the fuzzy images of the paramedics hovering over you?

I heard about you before I saw you. "Traumatic arrest, two minutes out." Suddenly you went rushing by on a gurney dripping with blood.

I brought your paperwork in to the trauma bay. You had been to the hospital before, schizophrenia, you were 28, you had a sister.

I heard the social worker call your sibling, heard her ask if she could please come in as soon as possible, that you had tried to hurt yourself again and it was serious. The second after she hung up I heard that you were dead. I met you then.

I saw you in the trauma bay, they were getting ready to move you to a room, so your sister could say goodbye. The nurses had cleaned off the blood, and bandaged up your wounded neck. You looked quiet, pale and restful with your short dark brown hair and goatee, eyes closed. I guess you weren't really there anymore though, it was just a body.

I did see your sister. I walked by right at the moment the police told her you were dead. I saw the shock on her face and watched her collapse onto the floor with grief.

I also saw the sadness on the faces of my colleagues; the doctors, nurses, policemen. All who had tried to save you, for a life you didn't want to live.