Megan Stewart

VAGAL MANEUVERS

my heart stutter-skips
breath stops dead
the doctor says it is just a little arrhythmia,
that these things happen
but when that muscle goes tripfalling down the ladder of my ribs
all the air goes rushing out of me
I am trapped for slim seconds
waiting for the world to come rushing back in

a starling, beating wings
against the cage of bones that holds me together
fighting to be released; fighting to take flight

* * *

ON A DAY WHEN THE STAIRS SEEM INSURMOUNTABLE

They call what I've got an "Invisible Disease"
It just doesn't seem all that invisible to me
When I'm lying on the couch with two black eyes
Watching a commercial for a shot that would take it all away
If I were willing to take the chance that it might just kill me
My doctor calls this tightrope walk the risk-benefit analysis
I call it exhaustion so deep that sleep is the only thing that sounds like it might be a good idea
Maybe the days that I limp are limited in number
But I'm pretty sure that my feet used to be pretty
And my fingers didn't always bend toward my palm like ballerinas taking their bows
I spent my twenties telling the world that I was more than I seemed
So I wonder if the world is finally agreeing with me
Teaching me an object lesson in abject humility
Because every day that I spend upright is a day that I am grateful for
This is the closest I've ever come to believing in god
I am angry and sad, but I am also a fighter
For every hard morning, there's an easy afternoon
The things that seemed so important before
Are just petty annoyances that I leave at the door
And I'm lucky enough to have this perspective easily won
When I'm reading pages and pages about drug toxicity
I just take a second to breathe and recall
The fact that I stand on my own two feet to brush my teeth- firmly rooted, like the long hair
That keeps people from realizing that I come with the label chronicity
Keeps people from pitying me
Keeps people from allowing me
To opt out of the things that make life hopeful
Like love and laughter
And the quiet moments after
When you drape your arm across the shoulder of a friend
And simply thank them
For inviting you to remember
That invisibility is cupped within your own two hands
Because people will see what you show them
And your sickness isn't invisible, but you can will yourself to be
Unless you keep fighting to be seen through the mask of pain that wears your face
Practice in the mirror, not hiding your disease,
But outshining it like the ingénue that makes the diva cower in her dressing room
And being graciously grateful every time you hear somebody say:

Girl, you are looking good today.

Megan Stewart is a poet and writer living in Anaheim, California. In 2009, she was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. She works for a children's science museum, and writes a travelogue with her fiancé. Their travel stories can be found online at Two Forks in the Road .