Poem by Donal Mahoney

In Certain Matters of the Heart

It's a matter of the heart,
the doctor says, 
and he can fix it 
with catheter ablation. 
"It works miracles," he says, 
"in certain matters of the heart."

He's been a cardiologist for years.
"Take my word for it," he says.
"You'll be sedated. Won't feel a thing."

No excavation in my chest, either. 
Instead, he'll make little holes 
in my groin and snake tiny wires 
to the surface of my heart 
and kill the current that makes 

my heart race like a hare 
at times and mope 
like a turtle other times.
He's never lost a patient.
"You'll be fine," he says. 
"Trust me."

Nine out of 10 ablations work.
I'll save hundreds a month, he says, 
on medications. No more Multaq. 
No more Cardizem. And I'll never 
have to wear a heart monitor again.

"Shall we give it a try?" he asks.
"I've got an opening 
two weeks from Monday.
It's an outpatient procedure.
You'll go home the same day,
rest for a week and then resume
your usual activities, even bowling.
Do you like bowling? My nurses do.
I prefer woodcarving."

"Okay, Doc," I tell him. 
"I'll give it a try, but tell me, 
where were you 40 years ago 
when the kids were small
and I was young, like a bull, 
and a different matter of the heart
dropped me like a bullet.
Are you sure my heart's still ticking?
Where's your stethoscope?
I haven't felt a thing in years."


Donal Mahoney

See:  https://fifthcoffee.blogspot.com/search?q=Donal+Mahoney 
for background on Donal.

Watch for more of Donal's poems to come.