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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

The Ceiling Tile

I stared up at the ceiling and counted the tiles, trying to distract myself. My attention, however, kept returning to the one directly above my head. It was covered with an old water stain. The rust colored blotch spread out over the tile like dried blood. It seemed so out of place in this building of high tech gadgets and the best trained doctors in the world.  "Now try not to move," I heard the lab tech say. I lay on the table, my pregnant belly a souffle about to be poked before it was finished baking. I imagined it collapsing beneath the amniocentesis needle with a "poof!" ending my questionable pregnancy before it even had a chance. I didn't dare look at the ultrasound machine.  Instead, I watched the minute hand sweep a slow circle on the wall clock.  It was supposed to be over in a minute, and it was. Afterward, I was glad my husband was there to drive me home. I wasn't in pain. Pain would have been welcome. I was numb, with intermittent stabs of terror. I existed in that state for the next 3 weeks.

submitted for RememberRED-Just Before You Start

11 comments:

Pearl said...

Oh, Lolamouse. :-O I'm so glad I found you again. I absolutely LOVE your writing.

I've added you to my blogroll.

Hope you're having a good day so far,

Pearl

darev2005 said...

Oh wow. That whole thing just made me really uneasy. If that is what you were going for, it worked.

Gene Pool Diva said...

I hope you keep on. There is a lot of emotion in that short piece.

Anastasia said...

This sounds awful. What did happen?

finallyMom.blogspot.com said...

i want more of this. i need to know more.

Brian Miller said...

whew...without ever addressing it directly you knock us out with emotion...the ceiling tiles, the hand of the clock, the numb....

Bouncin' Barb said...

Three weeks? That's an awful long time to be in limbo. Wow. Great writing.

Galit Breen said...

Oh my, there's so much in this piece!

I feel for you, I'm so sorry.

I have mad respect for how many cards you showed here.

But mostly, I feel for you.

wahzatgayle said...

Oh what a memory! I send you a ((hug))
a short but power packed piece.

angela said...

Wow, there's a lot of suspense here, and I felt like I was in the room with you. I like the contrast of the leaky roof tile with the high-tech medical equipment.

Doug Stephens said...

Now THAT is showing off your writing chops.