Friday, April 27, 2012

Her Heart

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-HoodFor this week, the prompt is the word “core” and 450 words to explore any meaning of the word in a work of creative non-fiction/memoir or fiction.

 She stands under the steaming water, her thoughts integrating this latest bit of medical information with all that has come before. 

Fifteen years ago, she stood by him through the cancer treatments. The chemo-induced puking. The hair loss. Finally the surgery that removed enough bowel to ensure a lifetime colostomy.

Ten years ago, she fretted by his side as he apologized for the heart attack. Two years later, she cried as they fought to keep him alive through the second.  

 She helped him track the cocktails of medication that finally triggered his genetic predilection for diabetes.   

The diabetes that has finally taken a toll on his kidneys. That has introduced words like "dialysis" and "high potassium levels". 

 She begins to accept his mortality.  Accepts that sooner than she imagined, she will be alone.  That there will be stresses.  Mental, physical, and even financial.

 But the heart of her weeps already,  dreading the loss of her partner. Her lover.   


  1. A sad, touching piece. I'd love to see you expand it. That domino of events seems to beg for elaboration to me. Great job.

    1. Thank you for reading. There was more to say, but I needed to stop.

  2. I know not everything is a serial, but the almost litany of symptoms seems kind of foreshortened to me, as though viewed by someone with far more time to go on.

    Is it part of the elementals?

  3. It's always in the shower, isn't it? Caregivers so rarely have time to think, to reflect, because their time is so dedicated to those they love. And those moments of clarity are so very hard to bear, and you capture that beautifully.

  4. There's such a grind and necessity for action when caring for someone who's sick. Those moments when you're not forced into action, the emotions can come crashing in. I feel like you've captured that really well here.

  5. This really affects me deeply and you expressed it so lyrically. :)

  6. Fifteen years of suffering drawing to a close. She stayed. She's staying. That's some hard-wired strength. I know you needed to stop writing, this is a heavy, dark topic. It's hard to bounce back from something like this, but this was so personal a piece that there was a feeling that something was held back. I am unable to give you any sound advice as to how to address it...maybe focus on one event or have her try to remember a time before the illnesses began when they were happy and fail, I don't know.

    I do love the closing. There's pain there, but the hope of a finality is actually comforting here (if that makes any sense. It's 12:30am right now and I'm not thinking too clearly)

    Excellent job!