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Artifice

My heart yearns for human touch. I spend my days within the confines of my hospice room, needlessly. I have a state-of-the-art head-operated wheelchair. I sold my beloved Harley Davidson Softail Deluxe to buy a wheelchair van.

Caregivers, doctors, and nurses but, rarely, people who love me, bother to be with me. Nitrile-encased hands clothe, feed, and change me. Where are the people to hold my hand, touch my face, or hug me? Without the gloves?

Even my husband, during his visits, seemingly has forgotten the value of touch and must be prompted to hold my hand, hug me, or kiss me.
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Location: 2720 E Madison St, Seattle, WA 98112, USA

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