thank you

You gave me trust, let me plunge a 1.5" needle into your arm

this life

Is this what it is to fall?
I find I am not good enough, strong enough
I disappoint, I am a burden to kind teachers

Yet what right do I have to tell you of pain?
Your new life, a kidney, is promised and lost
Your leg with weeping ulcers cut to the bone
Your bones riddled with metastases

How selfish I have been
to even for a moment think of my needs before yours
I see now I know nothing

apple sauce or jello?

5 long years of dialysis
a kidney promised, readied, lost

2 mosquito bites- now neutropenic
a choice of dengue, cmv, hiv, leukemia

every breath stabs

more morphine
wet to dry
weeping ulcer- cut to bone, decaying
mottled legs
no urine, which would be gold

deception

cerebral spinal fluid- clear, glistening, yet full of lymphoma cells
well shaped bones- riddled with metastases within
a tiny vial of Vincristine, from the flower periwinkle- can errode tissue, veins
chemo that looks like pure spring water- poison to the touch, wipes out blood cells, nauseates

blink

I help you slip into a blue gown

as you are wheeled past
I reach out to touch your shoulder
it is not a farewell

small talk

0515 - wake up, get to hospital
1600 - leave hospital
1700-2200 - class
I almost think I should keep this schedule. I won't, because I want to pass my classes, but I do sleep well with exhaustion as my blanket, too tired to process the day.

I used to think small talk was a superficial waste of time, but now I understand that it is useful for avoiding uncomfortable social situations.

"How are you?"
(her cancer came back- she has already written birthday cards to her little girls for each year to come, that fungal infection could kill him tonight, the chemo seared the lining of his mouth/throat- he can hardly talk or swallow through the pain.)
"I'm doing well, and yourself?"