In my younger days I did not have a care
Dancing until sunrise under the music’s spell
A drink in hand I tossed my worries to the air
And embraced instead the stories I would tell

Those bygone nights of sins sublime
Before my skin captured the sun’s bright rays
And my body swelled with beers of former times
Of memories made long before this hospital stay

I know the reaper must collect his dues
When he knocks, just let me be
Because every sinner pays for his booze
Every soul must be set free

So, as I depart do not lament, I would not change a thing
Except for one more shot of bourbon, before I get my angel wings

While at Bellevue, I took care of two patients who were simultaneously admitted to our service with decompensated alcoholic liver disease. One man, boisterous in demeanor, contemplated his condition with deep self-awareness. Having worked throughout his life in the film industry he jovially relived the adventures of his youth. With solemn understanding, he forged through his disease with courage and resolve. The other, immigrated to the US from Mexico nineteen years ago, leaving his wife behind in the pursuit of a better future. He was brought to the hospital with a vatical bleed and was encephalopathies throughout his time on our floor. Over the course of weeks together, I felt that I got to know what he cared about most. While his consciousness ebbed and flowed, he spoke of his beloved spouse with unwavering clarity. His advice to us—enjoy the joys of marriage. These two men’s often dichotomizing perspectives had a profound impact on the way that I contemplate life and meaning within the context of disease. In gratitude of what they taught me, I endeavor to capture their voices with the above poem.

Spanish to English Translation

I said goodbye to you my love, a distant summer ago
Not knowing when I would see you again
Living in the shadows of a strange country
I found my refuge in the drink

Laboring, holding up this weight with great regret
Nights spent caught in the devil’s grip
Now I find myself alone with blood so bitter
And the distant memory of your embrace

What I would not give, for one more night
Or the briefest moment of clarity
The power to turn my time back
Before I faced my mortality

But if the cold should run through my sheets and I am called into the quietest night
That my las memories would be of you, my beloved

Victor Sanchez he/him
2022