It Wasn’t Supposed To Happen Like This

“Help me!  It’s her heart!”
“Call Code Charley!”
Nurses and doctors descending,
fanatically attending.

Alarm’s shrieking:
Warning!  Warning!
“Heart’s failing.”
Shouting orders:
“Meds, IVs, EKGs.”

Quick pace, hurrying.  
Rush it, scurrying.
Coming, going, moving like a 
well-rehearsed drill-team. 
“She’s stable.  Wait.  Observe.”

“Heart needs a pacemaker.”

A routine procedure, usually,
goes horribly wrong. 
As if struck by lightning, 
heart’s wiring was fried.
Now, artificial pulsing,
keeping you alive.

Agonizing, watching from afar. 
Heart’s beating too fast,
tethering you abed.  Will you ever
enjoy normal-life activities again?

Doctors have answers, maybe. 
Meds could help, maybe.
A simple “I’m sorry” maybe
would ease our pain.  Maybe
but not likely said.

You were the healthy one.
In my wildest dreams, 
it wasn’t supposed to happen this way,
but it did, and I’ll
stand by you no matter what;
each day will be our new adventure.

Despondency.  
Fear.
Follow-up.  
Checkup.

When we hear,
“Heart’s beating on its own.  ‘Twas a
temporary overload, no damage done,”
it’s momentary disbelief.

These are sinking-in words,
wonderful words,
hoped-for words,
prayed-for words.

Relief.  Then praise.
Isn’t the heart divinely designed?
A wonder of creation,
an accidental rearrangement of slime, it’s not.

Pacemaker’s tracking, not pacing,
Heart’s resting, quit racing.  “She’ll be
resuming normal-life activities, soon.”

The mundane of life, isn’t it grand?  And making
New Year Resolutions is pure joy.
What a difference 
ten days can make.

Exhilaration.
A celebration.
Eyes bright blue,
their former 
sparkle returned.

Cheeks blush, 
lips flush,
“I didn’t get you anything for Christmas.”
“But you’re the best gift, ever.”

Holding hands and
giving thanks to Him for
another Christmas together.
Rejoice with us.