Foot Surgery

stripped to gown, plastic essentials
panties, bag on the head
passing vertical eyes avoid
or give that knowing-look
wheeled to the stop-start lift
“what do you usually do on a Tuesday afternoon?”
into the one-way theatre foyer
feet face the door-flap entrance

stalled, the final wait …
sound of foreign preparation from inside
at the foot of the trolley-bed
your bone-shadows large-enveloped
incisions will inflict insight
the first-hand cut critical
discovery inescapable, imminent
that concern not of concern now

you force attention to the ceiling
there’s no detachment of the mind
eyes switch to the no-quell color
the dull pink-wash paint of the walls
the hands on the clock frozen
between forty and forty five

the anesthetist enters arresting thoughts
dumb words on management of pain
asks a name, confirmation of own ink
a comprehension of the programmed act
all is legal and procedure, my decision
there can be no recall

the surgeon now quick to make his greeting
a fist to the palm of the hand that bleeds
highlights understanding, momentary eye-meet fusion
the final agreement before the cut

the trolley moves, door-flaps separate
the room vanishes, focus of attention voided

… eyes flicker open …
… an emerging discovery that there are others in recovery …

it is over, it is twenty past five
the clock already started on the other-side


© Richard Scutter 9 April 2009

Note ...Written following foot surgery on 31 March 09 ... with many thanks to all at the hospital