This is in response to our Poetic Blooming’s prompt #598: Write an on track poem. It is also about my husband, who was admitted for an acute attack of pancreatitis.
Keith experienced classic heart attack symptoms. Said, “Call 911.”
Very unlike Keith, and so he didn’t have to tell me more than once.
A look and some tests showed no sign of heart attack. Phew! But what happened?
July 31, 2025
Back in the E.R. for STAT echo with contrast. This, our new St. Luke’s?
Medical Test Findings:
He is well nourished. His reproductive organs? * Unremarkable.
August 2, 2025
Gallbadder all along?
Back in the E.R. More tests have resulted in admission. Thankful.
August 3, 2025
6:46 a.m.
Spoke with Keith’s nighttime nurse. He slept well. Still no word on surgery time.
Afternoon
No surgery yet. First will come more heart tests, then gallbladder comes out.
August 4, 2025
9:30 a.m.
Nuclear stress test (a four-hour test) followed by an echo-something
8:00 p.m.
A 30-minute gallbladder removal turns into two hours.
Anterior wall is the only thing removed. The remainder is
too attached to the liver. Apparently they’re inseparable.
August 5, 2025
11:30 a.m.
After not eating since 5 p.m. August 3, Keith is transported
to St. Charle’s to have surgery 2 in two days – needs a bile duct stent:
another 30- minute procedure that took about two hours. Ugh …
5:00 p.m.
Keith is returned to his first hospital in far worse shape than he left.
Suffice it to say, two surgeries in two days: zero of ten stars.
After forty-eight hours of no food or water, and overheated,
there was ice water for his throat, behind his neck, on his head, and chest.
But other than that, he didn’t want to be touched not even by me.
He was beyond hot (take that in every way) and who could blame him?
August 6, 2025
Now his pancreas has become enraged. Numbers have skyrocketed:
Lipase, which should be between zilch and one sixty is at three thousand.
Other lab numbers are also out-of-whack. So, no discharge today.
Clear liquid diet is better than nothing, right? “Nothing” went too long.
August 7, 2025
FINALLY some FOOD! He had flat, unseasoned eggs that he loved, loved, loved!
Improving numbers bring hope again for discharge. Nope. Safer to stay.
August 8, 2025
Finally discharged! Though he is still battling pain and unwell feelings:
He paused at the door and sighed deeply as he stepped inside the kitchen,
slowly walked each room, taking in the sight and scent and feeling of home –
mentioning details, like the way the sun glistens on the wooden floors,
and the beauty of the hydrangea tree that graces our window.
We both recognize how grateful we should be in the midst of hardship.
We have access to a clean, modern hospital filled with good people
who take pride in what they do – from the surgeons, to the NPs, RNs,
doctors, LPNs, those who prepare the food, and those who bring the trays,
the housekeeping staff, the various technicians, and those we don’t see.
The warm smiles and waves. The patience for their patients. The words of comfort.
None of these details went unnoticed, and all were appreciated.
(c) Marie Elena Good 2025
* Keith laughed hysterically over this aspect of his test results report! HA!
This, not really poetic, is an accounting of this event in the lives of my husband and me. I like to write 5/7/5-syllable poems, statements, observations, or feelings that express my day. This is the collection from what began July 29 with classic heart attack symptoms that ended up being a gallbladder attack.
Just for the record: The long, involved surgeries mentioned were through no fault of the surgeons. Keith’s was just a very complicated case.
I may add more to this as the days of recovery continue. This is my way of recording.
This is an age of unbroken connection.
Our fingertips tap into instant links.
We’ve little tolerance for imperfection,
And as our ego grows, our goodwill shrinks.
And in this age of unbroken connection,
Our face-to-face relationships have waned.
Resulting loss of physical affection
May render us emotionally maimed.
Now suddenly a time of social distance
Is thrust upon us necessarily.
Most look for ways to be of some assistance,
And find these ways, extraordinarily.
I’m thankful in this time of social distance
For God, who binds my drifting heart to His.
Our Father God pursues us with persistence.
Be still, and let Him show you who He is.
pictured words 