Tag Archives: health

worries

3:00 in the morning

 

alone in silence

it’s dark

 

I wake to worries

worries about myself and what I’m doing

and not doing

 

worries about those I love

and what’s happening to them

 

worries about those I know

but not well enough to love

and their troubles

 

in the dark it’s easy to worry

 

each small concern

unavoidable as a 3:00 a.m. heartbeat

 

it’s easy to worry in the small hours

thinking how big the problems are

how powerless I am

 

at 3:30

the dark deepens

now it’s worries about the wars

the earth

the rivers of blood

ignorant hatred

while I’m bothered by my lack of sleep

 

so at 3:45 I worry about selfishness

how my first world problems

are inconsequential but persistent as mosquitoes

 

I’m feeling guilty about worrying needlessly

but I can’t sleep

the silence is too loud

loud enough to drown out my heart

 

loud enough to echo in the dark

 

in the dark

where I lie awake

full of worries

about all the disappointed yesterdays

and fears about hopeless tomorrows

 

 

4:00 in the morning arrives full monty

in my face

as unavoidable as the seagull shit

splattered on the oversized bronze statue

of a long forgotten fool

who slept through his worries

until they called him hero

 

staring at nothing

it’s dark and quiet

at 4:15

 

my heart races itself in circles

until time doesn’t matter

 

all that’s left is everything that isn’t right

and that’s enough for one night

 

 

David Trudel   ©   2014

 

 

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That Time You Looked At Me

And then

I’d remember

How your eyes shone

When you looked at me

Obliquely

Or just with a question

Poised

Ready for a leap of faith

Like teenagers cliff diving

In the heat

Of summer

When we forgot about

Others

Danced with cedars and firs

Above those thin pools

Of critical cool

Where ravens swim and salmon

Touch the sky

And we would hold hands

Like it was meant to be

Forever

Or at least for now

Since there is a forever in now

Which transcends

The reality of this place

Until everything else drops away

It’s just you

Me

And the next breath

That neither of us

Takes

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

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Broken

A broken ice jam in my chest

Subcutaneous scab recedes

An alpine glacier

Shrunken to a few frozen crevasses

While muscles have reformed

Beneath a punctuation of red hyphens

Exclaiming sternly sternum drumbeats

Against a rhythm of compressed short breaths

Syncopating inhalations

With relentless staccato bursts

Of feeling healing

Relentlessly marching in place

Above my heart

 

 

David Trudel         ©  2013

 

 

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Filed under Cardiology, Poetry

This Is Not A Poem

This is not a poem about love

Or yearning for love

This is not a poem about relationships

And all the shit that transpires between us

This is not a walk

Down memory lane

Into some childish backwater of a mind that plays tricks

This is not a poem

About social context

Communities

Interplaying like some dissonant chordal structure

This is not that kind of poem

This is a poem that hands you a towel

When you enter this room

Dims the lights

Speaks softly to you

Listens to your heart

Intently

Echoing every nuance of feeling

Transcribing

That moment when you look into the abyss

With more excitement than fear

Because

This is it

Here

Now

Forever

David Trudel    ©  2013

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Filed under Cardiology, Poetry

Battles

My hardest battles aren’t with others

But with myself

Waging relentless optimism against an array of sins

I am cloaked in lethargy

I can barely shrug off the self-pity that has me wrapped up

In my own pain

I find it difficult to perceive the urgency of others’ struggles

Empathy is in short supply

So I retreat

I find myself napping

Taking short breaks

Eventually I psyche myself up for a walk

It has warmed up

So that insects and birds play out their aerial battles

With sunglints punctuating each twist and turn

Under the forest canopy I forage for blackberries

It is early enough that at least half are still tart

Their color belying their character

I leave the park and find my way to the commuter trail

I take pictures of the highway below

Wondering how many people have driven past this spot

Oblivious to its beauty

In their obsession with speed and distance

I think of the distance between heartbeats

And how oblivious we can be

To what our hearts murmur in our ears

 

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

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Filed under Cardiology, Poetry

Haiku – August 13

Diminuendo

My thoughts slow to a trickle

Evaporating

 

 

David Trudel    © 2013

 

 

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Healing

The enervation of healing leaves me flattened

My energy level drains as fast as an iPhone battery

So now I take naps

I rest

Each small chore a triumph

I battle ennui

With slow motion moves

I breathe, feeling my lungs inflate

I listen to the unnerving click of the mechanical valve

Only I can hear

I watch trees grow

I listen to the murmur of eroding rocks

I slowtune my thoughts into ponderous beasts

I release the hummingbirds that used to populate my brain

I send messages to the bruised bone that is wired together in my chest

Fuse, I tell it

I feel muscles and flesh tugging tightly

With each twist or pull

I feel the inanimate object buried in my heart

I wonder if it will change my feelings

Or reduce the impact of love’s vicissitudes

Unlikely, since the heart is just a pump

Unlikely, given love’s absence in my life

So I wait

Listening to my cells transform from torn to together

I wait

Patiently

Because I’m a good patient

My impulses to rush fall aside

I learn to mistrust anything quick

I learn to embrace slow and measured steps

I listen to the universe

As I heal

Slowly

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

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Filed under Cardiology, Poetry

Coming To

The unmistakable chime of a monitor echoes

Intruding into darkness

Awareness creeps up like a shy kitten

Mewling

I feel chest tubes

Painlessly weird

Opening my eyes I see the nurses’ station

So many devices and displays

It’s like an aircraft control tower

I look at the nurses

They’re looking back at me solicitously

I close my eyes

To dream of other cities and waking up there

A tour of unspoken words

I wake up in every city I’ve ever been in

Slowly drifting in and out of dreamplaces

Places that don’t quite make sense

Finally, I wake up here and I’m present

Alive

There’s less pain than I thought there’d be

But pain is present

I remember I’ve had a heart defense

Accounting for the lines attached to my body

Pings and chimes provide an otherworldy background soundtrack

A nurse comes over

Introduces herself

She shares the name Lisa with my sister

Which bodes well, I think

So did my mother she tells me later

I am extubated, the breathing tube taken out

The first unmooring of several

Breathe in, hold it, exhale

Slip slide upthroating relief slices through incipient nausea

I struggle to catch my breath

I do

Settling into consciousness I am wide awake as possible

Given the circumstances

I survey the lines and tubes attached to my body

I am unsure how many other patients there are on the ward

The man next to me is a loud talker

Voice booming out like a sideshow barker

Somehow I drift back into sleep

Until two patients across the room go into distress

One is a code blue

Gowned shapes appear, passing the foot of my bed

Until they cluster on the far side of the ward

Their ministrations succeed and the chimes stop

For a few moments there is peace

Rare peace

A time that I have come to

In this place

Where I awake

 

 

David Trudel      ©  2013

 

 

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Filed under Cardiology, Poetry

In The Night

I feel each molecule of splintered bone in the night

Constricted by wire twisted tight

I wonder what dance or battle is occurring at the cellular level

In the refusion

It isn’t always easy to bond once ties have been severed

At this moment it doesn’t appear to be an easy seduction

More of a battle

Subcutaneously the soft tissues are going through the same process

Nothing is flowing smoothly

Muscles feel pinned down and tug with each breath

The mountain ridge of incision line is eroding into gentle hills

I hear the drip, drip, drip

Of blood over metal echoing loudly in my ears

I try to resist the impulse to get up

But fail

I take an extra strength Tylenol

Just one

An air strike against the soft bullets

Of pain

This is not a war

Just a skirmish

This is not pain

Just discomfort

I remember pain

Archived now

This is not pain

Just discomfort

I feel my wounds settling

Subsiding slowly into the process of healing

Learning the normalcy

Of just discomfort

Because it is a kind of justice

To pay for miracles

With small sufferings

Here in the dark

Listening to mechanical rhythms of the heart

Marking each moment

Of slow improvement

With blackbeat backbeats

Counting the price of my reward

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

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Filed under Cardiology, Poetry

In My Castle

Warfarin

You know, rat poison

It’s something I have to take now and forever

To keep clotted rats away from the mechanical valve

Who knew I had rats running around my cardiovascular system

I didn’t

But my medical team

(if celebrities can have medical teams so can I)

Well, they’re all very earnest about warfarin and the dosage

I have to visit the vampires often

Who draw my blood with whetted appetite

Challenging me to make a tight fist

That they know I’ll never raise

But I’m cool with it

I have been gifted with a small measure of the royal disease

A junior baronetcy of hemophilia

So I’ll line my moat with rat poison to keep the buggers at bay

Besides, I never liked coagulating

Anyway

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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Filed under Cardiology, Poetry