Hard Beat

My audible exhale cuts her off, the pressure in my chest abates some, so that I lean forward, elbows on my knees and head in my hands as I try to rein in the rush of emotion that thunders through me like a freight train. And the nurse hasn’t even explained what an axonal whatever it is called means, but that it’s stage one is enough for me to hold on to until I can look it up myself.