The calendar on the wall is not just a measure of days,

It is a map of warnings.

I mark the weeks in red,

Bracing for the tide that pulls the ground from under me.

The monitor shows a landscape of grey,

Grainy shadows that the doctor calls “clear.”

“There is nothing here,” he says, “Everything looks normal.”

The wand moving over the surface, smooth and blind.

And I am left holding a heavy, invisible truth,

Wondering why my own anatomy is gaslighting me.

How do I explain the pulling?

It is not a sharp cut, not something clean you can stitch.

It is a low, heavy tether hooked behind the hipbone,

Like a sewing needle lost in deep water,

Catching on the fabric of things inside.

Some days, it is cement drying in the pelvis,

Turning movement into a negotiation.

They tell me it is just the weather of being a woman,

A monthly storm I should learn to weather.

“Take a hot bath,” they suggest. “Relax.” “Maybe it’s stress.”

As if this pain were a mood I could breathe away,

And not a rusted wire tightening

Around the life I am trying to live.

I count the years in cancelled plans,

In friends who stopped calling because I am “always tired.”

The bathroom floor knows me better than they do –

The cold tile against the cheek,

The porcelain offering the only cool place

In a body running a fever of inflammation.

I look in the mirror and see the swelling,

A stomach distinct and tender,

Holding space for a phantom that has no name.

It is a thief, this thing. It steals the energy from the morning,

It casts a shadow over the question of “someday” and “children,”

A silent question mark hovering in the dark.

And yet, it is not a weakness.

It is a body building walls where none should be,

Weaving scars in the silence.

I am carrying a house that is slowly locking its doors,

Fighting a war that leaves no shrapnel,

No bruises to show the jury.

But I get up. I wash the face that bears the strain,

I dress the pain in silence, and walk out into the light.

Author: Gourisankar Nandakumar ([email protected], https://orcid.org/0009-0007-2410-8787), Consultant Obstetrician and Gynaecologist, Birthvillage, Kerala, INDIA.

Conflict of Interest: None declared                                                                                                                                                                                       Funding: None

To cite: Nandakumar G. Silent Storm. Indian J Med Ethics. Published online first on September 16, 2026. DOI: 10.20529/IJME.2026.056

Submission received: January 20, 2026

Submission accepted: July 4, 2026

Manuscript Editor: Meenakshi DCruz

Copyright and license
©Indian Journal of Medical Ethics 2026: Open Access and Distributed under the Creative Commons license (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0), which permits only noncommercial and non-modified sharing in any medium, provided the original author(s) and source are credited.