She missed again, the vein dodging the needle.
The body reacts
And ineffective. Cold yet sweaty, those ears sink under water.
My bags unpacked, my threads untied, yet
I am gone.
Nothing remains, and the nothing is tranquil.
A second? An hour?
The cacophony begins, muted
The ears throb and resurface.
Voices touch, hands speak. I taste their worry.
I am back.
I wash in the relief of my return. I’m not ready.
[Written April 2010. I'm on a medication that requires my blood to be monitored no less than once a month. Since starting this process more than 7 years ago, I have had a few vasovagal episodes like this one. - SMD]
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