High in the Sierras.
I felt the dizziness
and the coughing started.
I couldn’t breathe.
Gasping.
Wheezing.
Spitting.
I needed air….precious O2.
Oh! The pressure in my chest;
so much weight, like a circus elephant
standing on one leg.
The numbness.
The shooting pains; Ow!
My neck, my arm, my back.
Even MY TEETH.
Calling for help.
“Ayudenme por favor!”
Sirens.
Ambulancia.
Precious oxygen at last.
EKG.
Blood tests.
Echo tests.
Blood thinners.
X-rays.
Still so primitive; no MRI.
No Cath Lab.
Oxygen.
Beloved sleep!
Vampires with syringes.
Sponge baths; it might have all been worth it.
Was I dreaming?
Vital signs: stable.
On the plane home.
Air too thin.
More coughing, spitting.
Mucous SUCKS!
U.S. Customs & Immigration. No hassle.
Freezing Cath Lab.
Tube in groin.
Pressure.
Wide awake.
Four stents later: edema.
Water pills. Plavix.
Coughing, spitting. Can’t breathe.
It’s not my heart, they say.
IT’S MY LUNGS!
Oxygen 24/7.
I can hardly walk.
Always coughing; spitting up thick glue.
Gasping up the stairs.
Burning metallic taste.
Choking down the stairs.
Fighting for just one more breath.
Drowning in my fluids.
The TERROR!
It must be like Guantanamo;
I’d tell them everything
they want to know.
Just end it!
Two years later:
Doc says:
“You’re a miracle of modern medicine,”
for $200K per year.
Thank you, Medicare.
Thank you Caring Voice.
Still on O2,
But no more
Gasping, spitting and wheezing.
No burning metal.
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