Hold. On.

CLXXXIII - glory moments

 

Hold your breath

To keep your kidneys from moving

As the biopsy needle hunts for infected tissue.

Hold your breath.

As the nurse practitioner gives you a diagnosis that alters everything.

Hold your breath.

As the dark shadows of depression creep along the edges of a smile.

Hold your breath.

As blood gushes out of your arm

When the 1st ever dialysis needle misses the mark.

Hold your breath.

As the nurse with the kindly British accent

Installs hardware into your neck

So the end of your catheter can enter your heart.

Hold your breath.

As your candidacy for the transplant list is voted upon.

Hold your breath.

As dialysis and Focal Segmental Glomerulosclorosis

Becomes a common part of your lexicon.

Hold your breath.

As you watch two 15 gauge dialysis needles pierce your arm.

Hold your breath.

As you sit on the machine, four hours a session, three days a week.

Hold your breath.

As you get a call three years later saying salvation has come

Only to find out after an hour’s drive

The family gave the kidney to someone else.

Hold your breath.

As you are in and out and in and out of surgeries, emergency rooms, etc.

For years .  And years.  With no messages or letters.

Hold your breath.

As your body becomes a waystation for medications

Not a playstation for re-creation.

Hold your breath.

As you go through your work routine

Only to get a salvation call, part deuce.

Hold your breath.

As you, your spouse, and your mutual hopes race into the unknown down I-95.

Hold your breath.

As you’re prepped, a single tear falls

As you give your wedding ring to a stranger to pass along.

Hold your breath.

As the monitor behind you beeps

As the anesthesia courses through your veins.

Hold your breath.

As yo  goe  t…..beep.

Beep.

Beep.

 

 

[Poem #26.  Image by caese via Flickr and a Creative Commons License.]

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