With in a Whisper of Angels

Within a Whisper of Angels

Sunday morning, one o'clock, extreme pain,

upper left arm, I remember reading such pain

might be related to the heart. I call

emergency services. They come.

An EKG shows no heart problem.

Thankfully.

After a fitful night without real sleep

I get up with a woozy head. In slow motion

I do the thing I usually do, even showering.

Then it happens, I fall. Rarely falling and

always able to recover, this is new.

Again a nine one one call.

Skipping lunch, I rest. Late afternoon,

I fall again, I crawl to the phone

and again call the EMTs. They insist

I must now go to the hospital,

no time to put shoes on, siren blaring,

red lights shining and ambulance

speeding, I sense seriousness.

In emergency room a cadre of nurses

and other health workers prod, poke

and take vials of blood. Then to a fifth

floor room with two walls of picture

windows over looking Vineyard Sound.

For five days the medical professionals work

making magic, bottom line: a massive

chemical imbalance related to my medicines.

I was not far from the end when I came in.

My medicines are changed and the body

is put back to it's proper default setting.

I'm told the room was that of

the multi-millionaire who gave millions

to build the wing. I wonder if, gods forbid,

they thought my last days should be with

this beautiful vista.

I leave the hospital for a rehabilitation center.

I circled in red the room I was in.