“I still feel the same,” she says
after three weeks of ECT.
A regimen of electric shocks under anesthesia.
“Your mood today?” I inquire
“So-so,” she replies.
So-so seems better than awful,
I think to myself.
I’m being tortured,
I can’t feel anything,
I want to die.
“That sounds different from yesterday,”
I say tentatively,
“What do you think?”
Her swift reply comes with twinkling eyes —
A smile creeps into her voice,
“I just thought so-so sounded nicer than horrible.”
Her laugh blossoms,
the first green bud on the branch
after a long winter.
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