Hard Beat

Yes, I’m going to tell her I love her, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I’m not going to leave her side until she’s discharged, but for the first time, the thought hits me that she might not ever hear it. And then that blinding panic I felt when I was trying to get to her and again when I woke up two days ago hits me with blunt force. My eyes dart furiously around the unit, but the room numbers are obscured by all of the medical carts and paraphernalia. All I want is to see her to clear up all of this unsettled bullshit. Once I can touch her and be reassured by the sight of her chest moving up and down telling me that she’s breathing, then I can ease all of the discord I feel within and deal with concretes.