17 April 2011
She’s already ill,
Feverish, and dehydrated.
She’s sat still
Through icy cold stethoscopes
And pin pricked toes.
Dressed and undressed and dressed again.
Now, it’s off to Medical Imaging.
Radiology must have become archaic.
Another pen to fill another form.
Another waiting room,
And she is sick.
When I do enter,
I wish I hadn’t.
“Her buttons will interfere
With the picture.”
And I’m staring at the seat,
The tiny, little saddle.
I hear her crying.
It hasn’t stopped.
I read the word
Etched across the implement.
“Sit her down,”
As the technician hands me lead armor.
I don’t want to wear it.
“If she gets irradiated, so do I!”
I wish I said it, but instead,
“Which side is the front?”
As I lower her wiggly diapered bottom
Toward the saddle.
“Hold her arms up”
Instructs the technician
As she clamps two
Baby-shaped forms of plexiglass
Snugly around my terrified girl.
Fear is easy to distinguish in her screams.
“We get a better picture if she cries.”
And the technician disappears to her control panel
First, an explanation of why I am posting my day 16 poem for NaPoWri month on the 17th day. I was sick and in bed all day. That's a pretty goo excuse, huh? Now, the poem. This is a poem that I started a year or two ago. I turned into a completely different poem, Incidental X-Ray. I wrote it after my 6 month old daughter had a chest X-Ray. It was an absolutely horrible experience. This poem is another very personal one, and it's also different because it is a straight narrative. It's basically a biographical story. Anyway...