Aftertaste
I stopped to see Teller
on my way home from work. I had known him
for years. We hadn’t been close, but I had
always liked him.
His condition assaulted
all five senses.
The sight of IV’s and
monitors, and tubes disappearing under the sheets turned my stomach. I knew
they kept Teller alive, but they reminded me of a picture I’d seen of a lamprey
attached to a salmon, sucking the life from it.
The rhythm of the ventilator
could barely be heard over the oppressive hush pressing down on the ECU. I knew the machine was breathing for him but to
my ears, it sounded like the air was being sucked from his lungs.
The smell was of an antiseptic
attempt to cleanse the air of all smells. Everything felt cold.
The way pills and
alcohol had wasted this smart, kind, and funny man left me with a bitter taste
in my mouth.
Today I will remember many pills have a
bitter aftertaste.
Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose
(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)
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