Perhaps this was a movie title or that of an old business card
Ah, the lingering spaces between events good, bad, or ugly
Do hold some value despite their lack of measurement on scale.
I spend them wandering through the hallways of our home by day by night
From bed to couch to chair to bed, ahhhhh not much going on here
When sickness marks the hours wanting for an answer, something new.
Antibiotics are on hold from now til whenever as this past year ends
With little change beyond fewer hours of the worst of the hell, I guess
And the unwelcome addition of thirty-four new diagnoses to boot!
I have learned so much of what to do and what not to do as well
My stack of papers tell a long tale witnessed by ERs, a few friends,
A weary husband, and scores of medical peeps paid by someone to care.
My goal to find meaning in these places between crises, visits to hell
Has gone dry like a wellspring once filled with life now bone on bone dry
Stained with spent tears, one worn-out puppy, and a purse now threadbare.
The money went away with five years of living the, uh, alternative life:
Don’t call me “disabled” for there still is a bit o’ fight within me, down deep
To endure this long “medical leave” on my way to a makeover not yet revealed.
So as I breathe in the goo between the more defined places of this life
I take note that here is where energy can move along unencumbered
And one day may bring me to my own railway “Station” or at least my next big stop . . .
Gentle Reader, I hope you will be there waiting for me, won’t you? JJ