The Old Man Just Wants to Go Home

They said I was sick and needed some help,

So off to the hospital I went,

And while I was there I met an old man

Who had something wrong with his stent.

Now I didn’t know just what a stent was

Or why he had one in his chest,

But the old man and me, we seemed to agree,

That while here we did not want to rest.

“The pillows are lumpy, the food is no good,”

He said with a twisted-up face.

“Perhaps we should team up and think of a plan

To get the heck out of this place.”

I nodded and smiled as he stuck out his hand.

We shook and our friendship began.

But what could we do to start our escape

With only our wits and bedpans?

The nurses came often to bring us our pills,

And as one came in once again,

The old man reached out and got hold of her badge,

Then hid it and gave a sly grin.

Now it seemed to us that this badge was our key,

Our ticket to freedom outside.

But as it turned out, it was just a name tag,

And with that, our first plan was fried.

He then grabbed his sheets and motioned to mine,

And together we tied up a rope.

But as we attempted to open a window,

The nurse ran back in and yelled, “Nope!”

It seemed that the old man had been here before.

The nurses all knew him by name.

They gave us a look that, to me, seemed to say,

“Old man, we’re on to your game.”

But he was persistent. He gave me a wink,

And before I knew what to say,

We were both out of bed, creeping slow down the hall,

The exit sign lighting our way.

We tip-toed past desks where monitors buzzed,

Past rooms with more patients within.

All of them quietly cheered us along.

We both were so sure we would win!

The door was in reach. We were almost free,

When we heard some footsteps on the floor.

And just like that we were back in our beds

With a nurse standing guard at the door.

We moaned and complained and plotted some more,

And he sighed with a sniff and a groan.

Then I spotted a tear and that’s when I knew,

The old man just wants to go home.

I grabbed his old calloused hand with my own

And smiled as I gave it a squeeze.

If he’d been crying, I’d never know

‘Cause he covered it up with a sneeze.

Just then the door opened and someone came in,

A girl with the old man’s smile.

She said if he wanted to get better quick,

He’d have to stop trying to escape for a while.

Looking over at me he rolled his eyes,

But I could tell he was glad she had come.

Then my parents came in to tell me goodnight,

And with that I could finally sleep some.

In the morning I woke up, and looking around,

I saw the old man’s bed was bare.

He wouldn’t have snuck out and left me behind.

Why, that would just be unfair!

When the nurse came with breakfast I asked where he’d gone,

And she smiled as she gave me my pills.

“He’s finally gone home,” she said with a smirk,

“Not it’s your turn to get well – and you will.”

The very next day we backed up my bag.

In a wheelchair I waited to leave,

But before they could roll me out to the car,

I felt someone tug at my sleeve.

It was the old man! With a present in hand,

He knelt down and hugged me real tight.

Then smiling and waving we both headed home,

Trying not to cry with all of our might.

Buckled up in the car, I opened my gift,

And wasn’t surprised one bit,

That he’d given me something he no doubt now had -

A professional lock-picking kit.

~

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I wrote this for my friend whose dad was in the hospital a few years back. He was so stubborn and so ready to go home that he refused to take off his shoes the entire time he was there. He recovered and made it back home before I even finished this story.