The title, "Dysthanasia," names a hard death: one drawn out by medical effort that prolongs dying rather than easing it. The poem sets that idea in a few spare lines. "Life's doctored exits" suggests that death has been tampered with, managed and interfered with by treatment, so the way out is no longer natural or clean. Those exits are "slippery," hard to hold onto and hard to control.
The images that follow are small and physical. At one end there is "suction," a clinical, mechanical sound that suggests tubes and machines. At the other end, just "a breeze / from the window." The contrast is striking: on one side, equipment working on the body; on the other, something light, ordinary and free.
The speaker never says what they feel outright. The tone is cool and observant, almost detached, but the gap between machine and breeze carries a quiet sadness, and perhaps a wish for a gentler leaving.