That Which Bursts Out
SPECIAL ISSUE: HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE
WORDS - Diana Lizette Rodriguez
14:37
I am cooking more things with water. Sweltering. White-hot possessing. I have lived a couple of years at a loss for water. And it wasn’t until I went to a doctor’s office last December when I figured out the tightness in Body had a name. A preceding diagnosis. A silence in Body that can kill.
18:24
Body fainted at the first appointment. Dull ache. This morning I tuned into a lecture on Experimental Criticism - a discussion about entities, the moments in which there is a blurry of the self, and authority is taken. The discussion reminds me of many recent things, but mostly about Body. How Body is functioning internally at a certain speed and turning, disappearing, removing authority. How some things function and choose to remain. How some things are better left alive.
19:57
To be human is to experience this. To leave this skin soft as there is an overstay of a sharp beating. I have now been dealing with palpitations and an overwhelming feeling in Body for three months. Fluid circulating arteries. Swell. Gush. Spurt. Sometimes Body’s pressure reaches 150/105. Once my mother had to drive Body to the ER at midnight because pressure had reached 162/115. Now Body needs two medications in order for it to remain stable, at ease. A historical wave of compromise. Running. Internal. I see Body turn inside out. External.
20:21
The nephrologist tells me that Body is too young to be taking blood pressure medication. Body is only twenty-three. Medication creates birth defects and lowers potassium. The internal medicine doctor suggests taking potassium supplements as well as anxiety medication. Heavy eyelids. Transparent lung. Resting numb left arm. Morning headaches. Dizziness. Blood. Large arteries. Adjusting vision. Today, in the bath I asked Body what it wanted. It spoke. Hollering. I lay in bed and ask Body again. Body begins heating. I apologize. Body only asks for rest. Anticipated hole in left kidney. I am sorry, I say once more and realize how I am expecting Body to heal faster than it can. Sudden palpitations. I am sorry. Reverse. Body function. Differently. Patience. I do not want to say goodbye.
9:50
Most days I cannot remember the feeling before this. All following. How I continue to live as it was a year ago. Running. Persistent temperature. The temper of mind. Last night the pressure underneath the rib cage; too much to feel. Burning century. Acquired rest. We do not talk about it, but Body is fearful of being below. So it stays above. I lay on dirt and tell Body it’s okay. Walking down alleys. Body warns me about poison ivy. So I do not cross the fence. I will let liberty take the risk. Almost there. Underwhelmed ovaries. A full spinal return to water. Dissolving tint layer. I crave fish.
12:32
Today Body is telling me there is something wrong. Forty degrees. Removal. The picking of skin. Pale. A grain of salt too much for Body to break down. Body asks me what I think of peace. I answer that I do not think of peace, but of neutrality. Wet footprint. A making of a human. Nausea. Body waits for diagnosis in the middle of the bed as if a name will give it more to hold. The worms in the ground come up after rain. A warm red light. Miscounted hormones. Burst out. Preservation. The lecture brings another question to my awareness as I hear one of the writers ask, “How to capture the waiting?” The abstract signaling that here aligned there would be an enchantment, a turning-over in the matter of the mind or heart.
14:25
Last night in the bath, back pain and shortness of breath. One single moment of heart resting between beats. Long-term stiffness. Body extinguishes the candles, and I watch its holographic remains submerged underneath water. The millimeters of mercury rise. A still landscape. 76 pulse rate. Nausea. Joint pain. Losartan. Family history.
21:07
I remain and ask Body if I can hold it. Eloquent. Shattering. I want to say Body caused this. But Body is me. And I am Body. Overpacing.
