In the chambers of the heart, a tale unfolds,
Where the mitral valve its story holds.
With flaps that falter, a rhythm's betrayed,
In the dance of life, a discord's played.
A prolapse, a whisper, a subtle shift,
Where closure's grip begins to drift.
Leaflets that should tightly bind,
Now bulge and sway, no longer aligned.
As the heart contracts, its beat so true,
One or both flaps rise, a valvular rue.
Into the left atrium, they ascend,
Where blood, unbidden, meets its end.
Mitral regurgitation, a backward flow,
Where crimson streams, unbridled, go.
A silent thief, stealing the heart's cheer,
Leaving echoes of a murmured fear.
Yet not all are felled by this silent woe,
Many traverse with silent tow.
No symptoms arise, no chest's embrace,
Just the steady rhythm, a tranquil grace.
But for some, a shadow dims the light,
Chest pains haunt the quiet of the night.
Palpitations dance, a frantic plea,
As fatigue and breathlessness steal their glee.
Complications loom, a specter dire,
Infective endocarditis, a consuming fire.
Arrhythmias whisper their ominous song,
In the chambers where the heart belongs.
Treatment's embrace, a guiding hand,
Lifestyle changes in the shifting sand.
Medications weave their healing thread,
To calm the heart, to soothe its dread.
Yet for those where shadows deepen dark,
Surgery's blade must leave its mark.
Repair or replace, a valvular quest,
To restore the heart to its tranquil nest.
In the rhythm of life, a vigilant eye,
A healthcare provider, ever nigh.
Monitoring changes, symptoms slight,
To keep the heart's dance in the gentle light.
