Though you tell me
on the phone that you
don’t think it’s really
an emergency,
I hurry to the ER
and find you in your bay
behind a sliding curtain.
It’s a shock to see you
in a gray cotton gown,
lying in a hospital bed,
your eyes closed,
electrodes taped to your chest,
monitors spasming with
numbers and beeps,
tubes and ports in place,
a man accustomed to health
now pale as skim milk.
A myriad of futures
streak by me in a moment.
We won’t get to choose
what is coming.
Your feet tent
the white flannel blanket
draped over you.
I reach out and give
your toes a little squeeze
to tell you I’m there.
Your eyes open….
we lock on, deep.
And I know everything
is going to be all right.
Not that the future
will necessarily be
as we wish.
Not that it may not be
difficult or
worst-case fatal.
But I know,
whatever it is,
we will live, fully,
what comes.
And everything
will be all right.
Even if it is not.
Ann Keiffer
April, 2016
Update: Blood pressure, prostate, bladder and
kidneys went down like dominoes. But situation
is correcting, husband Larry doing well. (Also
he is my editor and approved this message!)
Image Credit: Pinterest “Growing Old Gracefully”
