Pagosa Springs Artists

Upon Awakening after Bypass Surgery

I was able to see shadowy figures
silhouetted against the fading sunset;
he on one side by the window, she
on the other kissing my forehead,
saying, ".this one's for Chrissie,
this one's for Sheila, this one's for."

Respirator gone and more awake,
I was able to lie still all the next day
by holding her small warm hand,
marveling at her patience, my peace.
Her sister also came, generously,
from a distance, accompanied in
rare duo by her own curious husband.

The following day was harder for I
lay alone, immobilized by the sheer
multiplicity of tubing, monitors and
wiring that connected my vital signs
to digital readouts. No visitor broke
the monotony of my straight-jacketed,
silent wait. Surprisingly, I had no pain
without movement. I coaxed myself to

Be still, my heart, don't fret, reasoning
It's for your own good you're trussed,
gusseted with catheter and chest tubes,
arms threaded with IVs, skin dotted
with electrodes. You can overcome
these claustrophobic restrictions one
minute, one hour, one day at a time.

In time, the low winter sun did return
to an expansive blue sky, hospital
buildings jutting up in front of fluffy,
racing clouds. A web of bare branches
outside my window reminded me of
the network of tubing that yesterday
enmeshed me, enabling me, this time,
to cheat death.

 

first published in Illinois State Poetry Society 

©2014 Bonnie Manion

   

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