In My Exam Room
by Risa Denenberg
Three-Part Breath
After a cleansing round
of Dirga Pranayama — the three-part
breath — our yoga teacher says,
Pause and trust. There will always be
another inhalation. I try
to meditate on emptiness,
receive the next lungful, ignore
my prattling mind. But instead
I brood over an ailing friend
who gasps for every breath,
gathers morphine and valium
to claim his deliverance
from respiration. He pauses only
long enough to square his affairs.
I hear his whisper
in the studio’s stillness,
Breathing is the last thing
you forget to do.
Table of Contents
In exam room 1
Parkinson’s
Lumberjacks
In exam room 2
In exam room 5
When I'm not thinking about my patients
The night was long with pain
Pain Scale
In exam room 4
Chronic Pain
What pain means to me
Lives of elders
A Plea for Touch
We do not speak of death
I first saw cancer
On the morning of the second day
Prognosis
Lessons for dying
As death approaches
Hours to days
Going first
“Even the gorgeous royal chariots wear out”
“After a long battle”
Elegy on the mourning of my death
About a Lump
Pushcart Nominations
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The Lives You Touch Publications
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