By Kim Addonizio
This is a valentine for the surgeons
ligating the portal veins and hepatic artery,
placing vascular clamps on the vena cava
as my brother receives a new liver.
And a valentine for each nurse;
though I don't know how many there are
leaning over him in their gauze masks,
I'm sure I have enough--as many hearts
as it takes, as much embarrassing sentiment
as anyone needs. One heart
for the sutures, one for the instruments
I don't know the names of,
and the monitors and lights,
and the gloves slippery with his blood
as the long hours pass,
as a T-tube is placed to drain the bile.
And one heart for the donor,
who never met my brother
but who understood the body as gift
and did not want to bury or burn that gift.
For that man, I can't imagine how
one heart could suffice. But I offer it.
While my brother lies sedated,
opened from sternum to groin,
I think of a dead man, being remembered
by others in their sorrow, and I offer him
these words of praise and gratitude,
oh beloved whom we did not know.
Happy Valentine's Day (or Lupercalia if you celebrate it, or Tuesday if that's all the day signifies to you). I know my evening posts have gotten shorter and less articulate, but three weeks a month I'm distracted by Jon Stewart doing things like his current brilliant blasting of conservatives comparing Obama to the Nazis, so I shall be brief, again. I have little to report anyway, other than quite a bit of laundry (washed, dried but needs to be folded tomorrow), some writing and various unexciting chores, and hanging out with Adam and Maddie.
In the evening we caught up on the Once Upon a Time we missed last night in favor of the Grammys (I love Rumpelstiltskin and I like this version of the Beauty and the Beast story so much better than Disney's "if you love him enough, your abusive boyfriend will turn pretty and nice!"). Then we watched Smash, which resolved one storyline far more quickly than I expected, which leads me to believe that some huge upheaval will occur in the next couple of weeks and I just hope it doesn't involve someone getting maimed.
Spot Boomer Esiason and Albert King in the Terrapin Pride mural at the Comcast Center.
Several campus groups were giving out information in support of breast cancer on Sunday at the Play4Kay game.
The Miami Hurricanes wore pink to warm up. The excellent Stefanie Yderstrom is at the top.
Len Bias was the most famous Terrapin of my youth. He is, sadly, now much more famous for dying of a cocaine overdose than for his basketball talent.
Testudo, the Terrapin mascot, attended the game and did a lot of dancing and somersaulting.
Maryland's coach called for attention.
The cheerleaders spelled out the state...
...and showed their gymnastic abilities.