‘Look! here and here,’ she breathes. I note
her intentness, as the three
of us pore over her strange map.
I see his greying face
light at her nearness, how he floats
in her interest in him. I could be
half in love with her myself, lap
at her kindness greedily, but brace
myself to hear her verdict. Poet
in an alien tongue and territory, she
rhapsodizes about gaps
where gaps ought not to be. ‘We trace
low dopamine uptake … ’ (she strokes her throat,
addressing me): ‘Dementia – DLB.
Given the other signs – the overlap
of dream and real, the slowing pace,
visual hallucinations, remote
expression – this scan wraps
up my diagnosis … ’
(stops and holds his hand, devotes
herself to him): ‘Together, we
will deal with this thing, yes?’
Embraced
by her concern, he throws aside
encroaching night, flings his windows wide.
The trap door of my heart slams shut.
From The Hippocrates Prize 2015: The Winning and Commended Poems, selected by T Dalrymple, R Gross, F Oyebode and S Rae, eds MW Hulse & DRJ Singer. The Hippocrates Press, 2015. © Kate Compston. Reprinted with permission. Kate worked in the NHS as a BACP Senior Counsellor and is now retired.
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