Care Is Where Thoughts Converge
I keep thinking about that young doctor.
He was holding my numb hand and telling me to look at him.
Telling me to breathe with him.
I remember him telling me to stay awake.
He kept telling me to open my eyes.
I remember it was hard to stay focused
With everything that was happening.
I remember the doctor telling me to bear down
During the echo cardiogram. I remember trying to hold my breath
As I felt the ultrasound wand on my chest.
I felt a little unnerved that someone was looking
At my actual beating heart, making sure it was okay.
I felt safe with their hands on me, I felt secure in their care.
Care. Such a common word, an ordinary word, a colorless word.
But it's a vital concept.
Over and over I have been a glass ball
Falling from the ceiling and shattering on the floor.
But then there's this thing called ‘care'
Care is the doctor who holds your hand and says
“Watch me breathe. Breathe with me.”
Care is the tech who showed me the scar on his wrist
And told me life gets better.
Care is the psychologist who listens
And is genuinely concerned.
Care is the woman who sits in front of you
Ant tells you everything will be okay.
Care is what happens when there is a sheet
Held above the ground
That stops the glass from breaking.
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