In the place of bullshit and breathing

“oh there’s a marker in my left bre… Nevermind”

I’m a tad late because this hospital is a maze. I’ve slowly started to sweat and I desperately want a distraction. It occurs to me if I smoked, the distraction would be habitual. I have so many things in my brain that require immediate attention but all that settles to the front is did I take the pod out of the machine? I guess that’s distraction enough. 

I find the right hallway that leads to the doctors offices and I see him walking briskly down the hall. We lock eyes for less than a second and he moves swiftly by me. He continues down the hallway, he hasn’t recognized me. I lean against the wall. What’s a few more moments being late? 
I close my eyes and try to shake the memory forming but it comes anyways. It rams it’s way behind my eyes and steals my breath. 
Boo’s brain is gone. His heart will soon follow and this doctor delivers the news. He gently asks us for Boo’s organs.I feel trapped in that small room with my crumbling mother and step father. My brother and I know the truth that settles into that room like a thick fog. The doctor excuses himself. Tom and I deliver the news to Boo’s daughter. 
 Today he’s walking briskly down the hall probably going to ask for other people’s organs like you borrow a pen. I gather my thoughts and go sign in. There are tests to take and paperwork to fill out. I glance into a room and there he is again. Bending over a microscope. I look down and know the next memory instantly. We are old friends, this memory and I. 
I listen to my Boo’s heart beat stop over the phone as I’m speeding down the highway. I scream into my phone hysterically “I LOVE YOU, BOO.” but he doesn’t hear me. 
They call me in for a chest X-ray. I start to mention the marker in my left breast before I remember I no longer have a left breast. Exiting the room I look down at the floor. I don’t want to think of Boo or breasts anymore so I spend hours counting tiles and swirls on carpets. 
My new  bullshit diagnosis isn’t life threatening. Boo’s doctor won’t ask for my organs any time soon. I’m going home and removing the pod I left in the machine.


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