Art by Adina Singer, MS4
Blood dripping from their veins like serum
of truth. Ethylenediaminetetraacetic acid
chelates the metals of the earth that take residence
in their bodies, the evolutionary balance that nature solved
to give life and order to a collection of elements.
Science tries to keep up with Her in a race with no end.
Your mind spins as you observe the centrifuge until it ends
its rotations. You gently remove the vacutainers with separated serum
up to the light: clear with a tinge of yellow, no visible elements
of cholesterol clouding the specimen. Blood pH comes back acidic,
maybe alcohol is their poison of choice. Further testing, mystery solved?
A pain reliever by the bottle when they can’t afford pills. No one can hide their bodily residents.
People drive hours from their rural residences
if they have cars or a bus, trying to reach a seemingly impossible end,
of finding a destination with answers, the desperation of solving
the secrets their body keeps hidden in its serum.
Blood doesn’t lie but it also doesn’t tell your story, like acid
it corrodes the child playing with his parents’ needles, thinking they’re sharp toys in elementary.
You finally feel appreciated, the patients say you are in your element.
A sense of confidence starts to grow and take residence
in your mind after a heartbreak dissolved your self-esteem like acid,
devolving you into metal dust. You wondered if you would recover, if it was the end
of your contributions to science due to the poisonous serum
of doubt. You repeat this as advice to a jobless and punctured patient to help problem solve.
A teenage patient arrives with an affect dissolving
from anxiety. You look at her script testing for HCG and chemical elements.
She has tears drip from her eyes as her serum
leaves her body and takes residence
at the bottom of the vacutainer. You tell her the bloodwork has reached an end.
She whispers she feels nauseous and blames it on stomach acid.
A crowd of hungry patients shelter in lab from acid
rain on a Monday, postponing work until their bloodwork is resolved.
You are on your feet the whole day, yet you don’t want work to end.
The work excites you and teaches you the elements
of helping migrants, toddlers, addicts, and transgender patients, learning from each resident
in your lab chair, and not just about the science of their blood serum.
Carbon and steel elements hold the hands of a patient with two pupils dilated like he’s on acid.
Scared, you look into the prison resident’s eyes. He is too. A human with health issues unsolved.
The unbarred window bleeds sun-golden serum. He smiles at you, bittersweetly, like it is the end.
