You may have noticed my posts are fewer now,
days skipped here and there
like pepper mixed with salt.
Mostly, for need of sleep.
My days are long, and wild
spent romping with children outside through
forests and streams and in the backyard.
And harvesting mushrooms and plants,
morels, dryad’s saddle, oyster mushrooms,
nettle, dandelion, plantain, violets
to use fresh
and to dry for later.
And when Revie finally nurses to sleep at night I’m ready to lay head on pillow and rest.
there are appointments.
To radiologists, and oncologists, and chemotherapists, anesthesiologists, and surgeons.
All with quick, confident hands and kind eyes.
Pre-op classes, and ultrasounds, and MRI’s, all in an attempt to pinpoint
the cells trying to overtake
my sweet mother.
Waiting is exhausting, and wears on the nerves, keeps you hanging in limbo.
Tomorrow we’ll know whether the cancer is small enough to remove by itself, or if the entire breast will need to be taken with it.
How could it be I wonder,
that the flesh and blood that once comforted and nourished my siblings and I with the sweetest milk,
has become a threat to the very body that carried us?
The cancer center is beautiful,
and the people very kind.
There’s a wig shop,
and a healing garden on the rooftop,
flowers and trees growing right up against the sky.
Plants to remind you what is possible,
wigs to show you what is real.
And us, wandering,
somewhere in between.
Thank you for listening,