Deep breath. Hold it. Don't move. Okay, breathe out. <br />The second scan detects a new dismay: <br />X-rays confirm my body's swollen doubt. <br />I feel the chest straps tug; nurses convey <br />My gurney toward the operating room's <br />Dumbfounding glare. My surgeon wears a frown, <br />Confides a crooked complication looms. <br />I eavesdropp on the chat of starchy gowns. <br /> <br />On glossy trays, I spy the vanguard blade; <br />Catch sight of stainless forceps' slackened jaws; <br />And as I bluff that I am unafraid <br />The anesthesia gums my mind in pause, <br /> <br />But not before her image makes me start <br />And even as I drown, my heart takes heart.<br /><br />William F Dougherty<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-x-ray-studio/
