Johanna Shapiro, PhD
Sometimes I wonder about the doctor
who for a moment held my daughter’s life
in his hands
and then held my grandchild
What did he feel when my son-in-law told him
to put my daughter first?
What were his thoughts when my daughter begged him
to keep her baby safe?
Did he pray for the wisdom of Solomon?
Did he weigh the advantages of cervical massage
versus an IV drip?
Did he feel a tiny bit of love
for this young couple, so afraid, so alone?
Johanna Shapiro, PhD
Your spine is just a bunch of bones
Arranged in some kind of order
To hold you erect
To differentiate you from the apes
But when the spine fails
When it crumbles in on itself
When the discs compress, bulge, rupture
Then you meet your essential nature
Johanna Shapiro, PhD
I am so sorry…
I’m sorry, I have to take this call.
I didn’t say much because
I can see you haven’t really processed the news yet
I know someone who lived for years
After she took mineral compounds
Johanna Shapiro, PhD
Too soon after my surgery
we sneak out to breakfast
truant school kids
in search of guilty pleasures
But we are grandparents
respectable if rickety
The tang of sea-stroked breeze
is only made keener
and the succulence of the
fruit and yogurt sweeter
by the knowledge of risk
Johanna Shapiro, PhD
The modern Hospital Bed is
a thing of wonder
Maybe not in the same league
as the Sphinx – it lacks
this marvel’s ancient
awe and mystery
Nevertheless the Hospital Bed
with its crisp, clean, expertly
formatted fitted sheets,
its electrical ability to
move up down feet head,
is indeed a thing of wonder.
Johanna Shapiro, PhD
Inside the MRI machine
my nose an inch from the roof
I hear the tech say
Ready?
The noise
alternating between jackhammer
and drill
is so soul splitting
I wonder how I will survive
the next hour
Johanna Shapiro, PhD
(November, 2004)
The bad news is
You might have ovarian cancer
The good news is
You might not
Wait two weeks
We’ll do surgery
To find out.
You scream, you rage
You revise your will
But you wait two weeks
Which seem like two years
Then surgeons split you
Down the middle
Peel you apart with retractors
Plunge in, snip and cut
Johanna Shapiro, PhD
Sequential teds are not a row of inconsequential little men
known to their everlasting humiliation by a trivializing diminutive –
No, they are uncomfortable, scratchy calf-length “boots”
unstylish white cotton Velcro design
But as Nancy Sinatra might say
Should she ever need to wear a pair,
“These boots are made for walking!”
or more accurately put,
these boot are made to do the walking for you
if you find yourself in the unfortunate position of being a patient
in a hospital bed
supine, confined,
unable to do your own walking
Johanna Shapiro, PhD
18 year old boy
No one expected him to die
But he did anyway
Blood everywhere
Social worker: I should have prepared mom better
Resident: We quickly went on with our rounds
Other patients to see
No choice
Social worker: He reminded me of my son
Resident: He reminded me of my brother
Too bad
Johanna Shapiro, PhD
2016
In the waiting room
people pretend to look at their smart phones
shush their kids
ruffle ancient magazines
glare at the receptionist
when they think she can’t see them
Really they are waiting –
to find out what’s wrong
to find out what will fix them
Really they are waiting
for hope
or the pretense of hope