hare turned tortoise

A haibun for the dVerse Monday haibun prompt, “heart“:

 

Ba-doonk-a-doonk, Ba-doonk-a-doonk. Eight-thirty p.m. and my phone alarm is flashing “take meds”.
The tablet snaps in the cutter, and the two halves fall neatly apart: two 25mg doses of atenolol. There is a satisfying definiteness to that snap, a decisive counting out and finalising of the days with this miniature guillotine. (I am always tempted to run my thumb along the little razor blade to test its sharpness, but I do not. At least, I have not so far.) It clicks down SNAP! and another day is gone, decapitated, and dropped into the little plastic box below the blade.
I am no longer measuring out my life with coffee spoons – I am not allowed caffeine anymore – but with half-tablets of heart medication.

The rabbit is tamed:
it twitches rather than kicks
and plods tortoise-paced.

(or:

My heart no longer
skips a beat when I see you
(if I take my meds).
)

0500 December 30th, tachycardia

The rooster sounds reveille, but I am already awake
and swimming upwards from a dream of drowning
into bathwater-warm air, saturated with the night’s breaths.
At least in my dream the water was cool.

Sinking back, submerging again into sleep
the flickering in my chest, in my scalp, pulls me up.
Morning meds, a glance at the sky, and back to bed.
Nightmares are a side effect, supposedly,
but I long to sink back into dreams.

The rooster has woken the magpies, their songs flow –
silver streams, winding and twining through
a dawn of grey freshwater pearl,
leading me back to cool waters.

small hours II

on the wrong side of the morning
spores of worry grow
their mycelium spreading,
enmeshing every cell
but my heart stays sluggish,
beta-blockers in control
is this really better living through chemistry?
the oximeter flashes low –
which will suffocate first,
me or the fear?

 

This was actually written before small hours, but I decided it was a bit dark for the prompt and rewrote it into the other one. Then decided to post this anyway…  After a bunch of cardiology tests lately I got the diagnosis “one of those things at your age” and have been put on beta-blockers which are sort of helping. Sort of.    

rabbit food

dVerse is back! Yay! Here is my quadrille for Monday’s “let’s celebrate” quadrille prompt.

 

No alcohol, no curries,
or it kicks me in its sleep.
No coffee, no tonic-water or
it races, stumbles in a heap.
I’m trying to take care
of this rabbit in my chest –
no champagne for me,
a celebratory carrot is the best.

two strong hearts

For DJL:

I am distracted as I wait
choosing sunset-coloured pansies,
and when you greet me
my heart thumps
like a rabbit in my chest.
And there you are at last –
smiling with your heart racing
like that of a frightened bird.
For how many years now
have you fondly mocked
my choice of decaf?
But today you order two,
and it is my turn to mock,
as we exchange our tales
of high blood pressure and PVCs,
of dizzy spells and fatigue,
GPs, cardiologist and ECGs.
Two strong hearts, you say,
and of course I agree –
we may both be drinking decaf,
but at least it’s still full-cream.