There is something beneath the house

the horror of things that kill quietly

There is something beneath the house

not metaphorically
nor in the poetic way 
people say grief lives in the walls

I mean something ancient
and patient
coiled beneath the floorboards
breathing through the cracks in the foundation

it survives by being unnoticed

by slipping upward slowly
through concrete and sump pumps and laundry rooms
curling itself through the lowest parts of the home
like silent smoke with nowhere else to go

a thing made of silence
a thing that does not need your fear
only your unawareness

it feels less like a chemical
and more like a creature

something geological and starving

something old enough to have watched 
entire forests rise 
and rot above it

something that waits 
beneath family homes
with impossible patience

listening to children laugh overhead
listening to dishes clink in kitchen sinks
listening to people promise each other forever
while it quietly fills their lungs 
one invisible breath at a time

no teeth
no claws
no dramatic violence

just accumulation

just a monster that knows
the human body cannot distinguish
between air and ruin
until it is far too late

sometimes I think
the scariest things in the world
are not the ones that chase you

some monsters do not need teeth
they just need time.

---

This poem is about radon, which somehow feels both absurdly ordinary and deeply terrifying.

Radon is a radioactive gas that rises naturally from the ground and can accumulate inside homes, especially basements and lower levels. You cannot smell it or see it, and many people have no idea it is there until they test for it. Long-term exposure significantly increases the risk of lung cancer, and it is the number one cause of lung cancer in non-smokers (Health Canada).

Recently, my boyfriend’s home tested far above the recommended safe level. He also has a genetic predisposition to cancer, which made the entire experience feel especially heavy. There is something profoundly unsettling about realizing danger can live quietly beneath the places we love most. There is also something extremely horrific about the fact that this is a well-known health issue and yet everyday people typically do not know until it is too late.

We are now trying to figure out the best course of action, and save up to 1. move him out of that environment, as his room is in the basement and 2. mitigate the basement so his father (who already has unrelated cancer) doesn’t have to worry about it.

As a precision medicine student, I spend a lot of time thinking about risk, prevention, genetics, environment, and how health is shaped by things we often cannot immediately see. But this stopped feeling theoretical very quickly.

So this is also me asking you gently: please test your home.

I am not trying to get fear monger. Long-term, high-exposure seems to be the main issue, but more people should be aware now so they can mitigate it and avoid health effects.

Thank you for being here 🫶🏻

Photo by Random Thinking on Unsplash