Glass Half Full
“Your husband’s in the emergency room.”
My mind jump-starts to scenes of gloom.
He choked upon a piece of meat.
They could not get his heart to beat,
But he’s OK; he’s come around.
We need you to come in to town.
We’re going to do some chest X-rays.
Pneumonia is a risk, they say.
I go get dressed in disbelief;
But that he’s fine is some relief.
Well, here we go; it’s now begun—
The latter stage of Huntington’s.*
We’ve battled this for ten, long years,
Through sorrow, change and many tears.
‘Twas rooted in his fam’ly tree,
Unknown to him, unknown to me.
Ou