Operating Talk

Quite a game last night, wasn’t it?
As the mask is placed over my face, I want to say
Yes, Mussina struggled, but he pulled through.
But the question was for the nurses, the surgeon,
colleagues prepping for the morning’s work, not for me.

Instead the anesthesiologist pushes warmth
into the IV in my arm, and I’m asked to count
backward from ten, nine…aaa

As I slip under, the echo of everyday banter,
light and easy, reassures me that the hands
I am in are steady, sure, and operate without fear

The Good Patient

She’s a trooper, the first doctor said,
handing me over to a second.

I am skeptical,
wary as I brace for another test.
I was not seeking praise
yet it satisfies.

I do not cry to doctors.
I do not tremble during exams.
I need not even tell myself
to hold strong.

Show no fear to those who protect,
to those who save.
But who protects the rock?
Who comforts the good patient?

Who silences the cry within,
even when no one is there.
When being formidable is necessary
to save the soul.

Ann Wallace reads “The Good Patient”:

Ann E. Wallace writes of life with illness, motherhood, and other everyday realities. Her poetry collection Counting by Sevens is forthcoming from Main Street Rag in 2019, and her published work, featured in journals such as BloodSugarPoetry, Wordgathering, The Literary Nest, Rogue Agent, and Intima, can be found on her website AnnWallacePhD.com. She lives in Jersey City, NJ and is on Twitter @annwlace409.