Brianne Alcala is a writer and editor who explores illness, wellness, and the tools and wisdom that help us thrive. She has been an editor at The Hedgehog Review, The Washington Post Express, and The Virginian-Pilot. She is currently Editor in Chief at The Arnold P. Gold Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to the human connection in healthcare. She writes the Substack newsletter Odyssey of the Body and holds online gatherings, including Winter Camp, to help brighten the cold, dark season.
Monthly Shot
I turn my head and wait
Shirt pulled up, raw belly exposed
For my husband to pinch me
With a $7,000 needle
Send a jolt of clear liquid
Into my flesh, into my
Precious creature system
Every 28 days
Somehow, this crayon-sized
Human-concocted technology
Does its thing,
Represses my body’s
Own fighter cells.
Like the mysterious workings
of a refrigerator or a toilet
Something happens
That I mean to happen —
I do not know how.
Tonight, the prick hurts,
Surprises me with its pain.
When I turn my head back,
I see a tiny bump on my belly,
Like a miniature burial mound,
The kind we saw in Ireland,
An ancient tourist stop.
My husband looks concerned.
It’s a mark of something
where nothing is expected.
“Does it hurt?”
“It did,” I say. “Not now.”
My husband places his palm
On my belly, gently,
As he did years ago,
When our son
Was snug inside,
Hiccuping and kicking
And filling me like a balloon.
“It’s cold,” he says.
I feel the spot. He’s right.
There’s an itty iceberg
Now under my skin,
Harmless, ominous.
“It’s unusual,” he says.
I nod. I shrug.
“It’s probably fine.”
Inside, I think:
I’m still alive.
It’s okay.
Who ever knows
What’s really happening?
— Brianne Alcala
Print and ebook Lesions Vol. 1 is out now. Vol. 2 is in the works.
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