Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

The Sisterhood

This morning I finally succumbed to antibiotics.
I tried the last eight days to defeat the virus
that had overtaken my body with
good food,
rest,
and my own bed,
but my cough only got worse from all of my good intentions.
Last night the familiar rattle of bronchitis set in
and I found myself up coughing most of the night.
Today I am wheezing.
That’s enough for me to pick up the phone and start in with the heavy ammo:
Inhalers and Z packs.
It all started when I got pneumonia in my twenties.
Ever since then my Achilles heel is my lungs.
Now, whenever I get sick things head south real fast.
Usually, I end up with a bottle of antibiotics and an inhaler by my bed.
It’s an inherited defect.
Everyone in my family has weak lungs.
My mother’s had pneumonia about five times.
Her mother died of lung cancer and never smoked.
My aunt died of lung cancer.
My mother’s aunt died of lung cancer
and everyone in the group’s had pneumonia.
It’s like belonging to a strange sisterhood
where membership means a lifetime of difficult breathing.
I wish I were a member of something else.