Rosa L. Frias, MS3
San Juan Baustista School of Medicine
A faint ringing in the background kept calling, Insistently, as if her life depended on it, Against a body losing life by the drop, She kept focusing on the ringing... A ringing to life, to hope, to a chance, Her body sinking and her cortical function plummeting, But a heart and a willingness so strong That no red trails left behind could stop her, She found the strength or the strength found her, But armed with that and that constant sound, She made her way to wherever it was calling her from, She got up... Took three steps, but her perfectly imperfect body reminded her of her critical condition, To the floor she fell.
Her 11-year-old “life” witnessed desperately through the door’s peephole... But the ringing didn’t stop despite the fear and the pain, And that kept her going... She saw no other choice than to survive... But again her body kept failing her, Pushing her down, Reminding her of who ruled the house, But she was a lion and stood her ground, not even the pointy corner of a glass table against her skull could stop her, Not even this could keep her from getting to the source of that calling sound. She looked up, but the sound seemed so unreachable, so far away... She had no other choice than to prove she had the strength to make it, She just need to get there... So she kept crawling, Figured staying closer to the ground
increased her odds at fooling cortical disfunction.
What if the ringing had stopped?
No one will ever know.
But what we do know is that
By crawling on the floor,
despite three falls,
she made it to the source of that sound,
The sound her “life” made that night,
The sound that saved her.