It started out a mere blip;
A tiny speck in an ocean of green.
It was nearly overlooked,
Discovered by a cursory last-minute glance.
“It’s nothing.” they all said.
“It’ll all be fine.” I thought to myself.
“Everything’s great.” I told everyone else.

A flash of silver numb;
Rolls of white, threatening instruments.
Long sterilised corridors, hours of waiting.
Fluorescent lights hanging overhead like rain clouds.
“Just customary procedure.” they all said.
“No certain threat.” I convinced myself.
“Everything’s great.” I told everyone else.

Homecoming after but a night away;
Stench of the hospital pervading every corner.
Normalcy returned, even an argument broke out;
It was all a dream, I convinced myself.
“Everything’s alright.” they all said.
“It has to be alright.” I told myself.
“Everything’s great.” I told everyone else.

After seven nights it all seemed hazy;
An ephemeral fog, gone by the noon.
An official looking paper, peppered…