And so, she waits
Hasty hands write a name, an address, a phone number
data parts
on a form for women that need a screen.
The stack of files under my desk
comprised of these documents
grouped together because of a shared threat to their longevity
“Plagued with fear, restlessness, and anxiety
for what does this lump really mean?
Uninsured, undervalued, unstable”
The healthcare system in this country more reminiscent of some odd fable
Access to medicine should be a human right,
Ethics tells me
but this is not the land of equal opportunity.
Image credit: Unsplash
That lofty waiting room, with clean-swept floors
and steam from hot coffee swirling to the ceiling while you wait for an appointment you made the same week
isn’t for you
Not you, without an income
No, you?
You can go to the emergency room
And if that doesn’t work for you?
If that doesn’t work for you because you can barely stay groomed
or because you need to save money to feed two
not old enough to know the reason behind the shadow of your gloom
you must wait.
And so,
she waits.
Image credit: Unsplash
Placing the stack of papers under my desk, I wonder
if a tumour is angrily multiplying inside her
Furious cells invade into pink tissues they consume
making them bleed.
With hands clenched down tight, your knuckles turn white
as you bear down with all your might
to try to stop the dark red from flowing forth
onto that podium where lawmakers speak and
down into the crevices of those crystalline hospital rooms
Tears spill down, as you heave all your body weight forward
Is there still a heartbeat?
We need more hands
to stop this bleed
for these women
waiting.
