Do not be still, my heart.
My Heart
The doctor is monitoring my heart.
I try not to think about the patch
on my chest,
But I can’t forget to bring the phone with me
everywhere.
It needs to be near enough
to receive the signal.
I begin to wonder,
Have I imagined a random, racing heart,
and random chest pains?
Part of me hopes so.
But it’s good to know for sure.
I’m glad there’s a way to see
if there’s something going on.
I’m of that age
when you need to be aware,
when doctors pay attention to every word you say,
and order tests
they might not consider if you were younger.
And that is why I have
an orange phone in my pocket,
Recording signals
from the patch above my heart.
At home there’s a box,
a booklet of instructions,
extra patches,
and a charger
with an orange cord for the phone
and a black cord for the sensor.
I also have a UPS envelope to send everything back in four weeks.
Besides the physical items,
I have hope
that all is well
and this will be four weeks of monitoring
nothing abnormal.
