As a mainly confessional poet, I often find myself writing about my personal experiences. Today one such experience was brought to the forefront of my mind, by my husband Nick. Earlier I was sitting a little rudderless - No muse or creative flow. So in a vain attempt to find some, I turned to Nick and asked, "Can you think of something I can write a poem about?' He replied, "Your bronchoscopy!" And just like that, I had a challenge, and I do so like a challenge. Now I am aware that this it is not my best poem, but I would like to use this poem as a marker for all. Poetry can be about anything. You don't have to write about loves and pretty things. You shouldn't place your thoughts in the 'to do later basket'. Write because you love it and share it because it is part of you. :)
The Patient
Forcing the tube down my throat.
I feel the pounding of my heart.
My need to flee is thwarted.
As that gagging reflex starts.
On the screen, my innards revealed.
As the camera searches me.
I feel fear and wonder, but also awe.
As they look and watch and see.
I am a prisoner trapped and weak.
Held by those who wish me well.
Precision like - they take their cut.
This is now my living hell.
They coo at me, smooth my brow.
As a means to keep me calm.
Now panicking and frightened.
They pump more meds into my arm.
It’s nearly done, but still I view.
The camera as it seeks.
The things that grow inside me.
Those things that make me weak.
By Helen Stallard
March 28, 2014
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