From 'ephron'3 Poem by Morgan Michaels

'Hi, buddy, how was your day', I cautiously began.

'Awful', he rasped. 'Non-stop. Every test in the book. They're so disorganized, here. What they need's a good conductor'.

'Ephron, I said, even more cautiously, 'does anyone know you're in the hospital besides me? Do you have family in the area- or anywhere'?

'Only my son', he replied. 'But, he's grown and lives in Providence with his girlfriend'.

'Near her parents'?

'I don't think so. Her folks are missionaries or something. They're out the country'.

'Does your son know you're in the hospital'?

I didn't like to ask Ephron, but it seemed right.

'Come to think of it, no. We're out of touch'.

I couldn't imagine it. If not exactly paternal, Ephron did at least seem quite avuncular.

'Would you like me to call him- or anything, buddy'?

'What for'?

I envisioned Ephrons' heart beating feebly in his chest.

'To let him know you're here- that's all.

'For what'?

Ephron was in what they call denial.

'It's common to have a next of kin listed'.

'I know that'! , barked Ephron. 'I listed my dog'.

When the air cleared, I proceeded, taking a new, mildly reproachful tone.

'Ahhhyes, but I don't think your dog could call the shots in the event of....'.

'In the event of what...'.

Ephron came off as more and more helpless.

'Ephron', I said, 'these things aren't to be taken lightly. Outcome can be dire'.

'Don't be such a hangdog. I'll be out of here in a couple of days. My doctor says. It's nothing, really. Just a precaution'.