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By John I. Blair

A tube trails through my skin
Directly to my heart;
And yet I rarely think about thisó
One gets used to anything.

Iíve learned the word ďinfuseĒ
And once each day I do it,
Step by careful step, alone,
Accepting medicine that heals.

It feels like nothing special;
A tiny chill from saline flush,
Heparin to stop the clots,
And then the stuff flows in.

I donít feel tough;
I donít feel much except
How old I am, how wise
Iíve grown. How frail.

©2015 John I. Blair

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