In the semi light
Amid machines, notices, desks:
The humming paraphernalia
Of the working, windowless departmental room,
I lie, looking up at the square ventilation vent above the clinical couch,
Noticing a cobweb trail,
Trying not to betray my nervousness with idle chatter.
I feel the pressure of the probe
On slippery jelly on my lower abdomen.
There is a tense waiting silence
Then beeps as things are measured,
Measured,
And measured again.
I feel well.
There can be nothing wrong;
A lifetime later :
“All is ok, apart from….”
(Here goes)
“…A small cyst on your right ovary.
These are usually nothing to worry about
We usually measure again in 8 weeks
So expect a further appointment
And we can see.”
That’s it?
That’s it.
I wipe the copious cool jelly away inadequately with unabsorbent paper,
Thank the radiographers
And leave
Along the red line back to the main hospital corridor.
Nothing to do but wait.
I still feel well.
I hope there is nothing wrong.
2019
Jo Hansen 