Beep. Beeeep. Beep.
It is hypnotic. It is constant. The room is dark and the machine emits a faint glow over the bed.
Beep. Beeeep. Beep.
The incessant tone fades in and out of my consciousness as I fight to concentrate on my beautiful mother as she lies there still one minute then agitated the next.
Beats per minute, oxygen level, pulse… One after another after another.
Beep. Beeeep. Beep.
Steady, unmistakable.
Her life measured by a machine and it’s last fleeting moments.
My eyes divert as I check the stats: lower… faster… We are prepared for this. But when? But how?
Beep. Beeeep. Beep.
The sound is irritating the hell out of me. Can’t we shut it off?
Like a drip from a faucet, this electronic, inhumane beep, beep, beeeeep, beeep.
A measurement. Of What? A life?
My mother, her heart. It’s beating.
She’s breathing.
Beep. Beeeep. beep.
This is what tells me she is still with us.
The sound. This repetitive mind-numbing sound.
I hate it and yet I don’t ever want it to stop.
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This post was written as part of The Red Dress Club RemembeRED prompt”
This week’s prompt asked us to write about a time that rhythm, or a lack thereof, played a role in your life. And don’t use the word “rhythm.”

{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
Although this is an excellent piece of writing for this prompt, I wish you didn’t have this experience to write about. Sorry about your Mom. Cancer does indeed suck.
Thank you so much Tracy. I wasn’t going to write it but then I heard that “rhythm” – writing can be very cathartic.
Thank you much for stopping by!
I have such a hard time commenting on the memoir prompts, because so many are so very personal and moving.
I love the rhythm of your sentences, the short and the long, the beeps, not knowing whether it was going to go on for another hour or another day.
I often am unsure whether to share or not so I really appreciate your leaving a comment here. Sometimes the prompts cause something to register and this time I just kept hearing it again so I thought the only way to get rid of that beeping would be to put it on paper. Thanks for stopping by.
You captured well that feeling of hating the noise but needing it for what it means. I’m so glad you shared this story.
Thanks Cheryl. I’m hoping the next prompt will focus me on a happier moment! Am so grateful for the prompts you’ve no idea what they’ve done for me!
Wow. I agree that it’s hard to leave a profound comment after reading something so personal and touching, but yet it deserves to be noted that this is extraordinary. There’s not one person who hasn’t been touched by cancer, some many times over, and struggled with the helplessness and frustration you so poignantly described.
Great peace, and virtual hugs sent your way.
Thank you Abby for the kind words and the virtual hugs. Much much much appreciated. Or should I say, Merci beaucoup.
Sara,
What a powerful and personal moment. Those machines, their sounds, and all that they stand for are indelibly imprinted in the minds of those who have experienced them…in one way or another. They are also immediately where my mind went when I read that the Red Dress prompt was rhythm.
I’m sorry for your loss. I thank you for sharing this moment. It was tragically beautiful.
Dana @checkingpockets
http://checkingpockets.blogspot.com/2011/07/just-breathe.html
What a powerful post. I can see why you would both love and hate that sound.
I’m so very sorry for your loss.