(Cox North Hospital: 7:45 a.m., January 20, 1992)

Heather — Mon, 01 Nov 2021 16:41:33 +0000

She leaned closer to me, a few wisps
of white-worn hair clung to the corner
of her lips.
“Whose granddaughter are you, honey?”
I sighed, knowing her intentions
were those of comfort, to ease, not
to burden.
“I’m almost finished.”
She said – perhaps intrigued that I had
failed to respond to her query.
I smiled- tried to appear engrossed in
“TEN EASY WAYS TO LOSE TEN POUNDS!”
(Oxymorons of life)
“Five more days.”
I nodded politetly, looking inadvetently
at the red, irritated bridge of her nose.
She squinted at me, although I was only
inches away – evidence
of the need for glasses she could not wear.

VOLUNTEER steeped into the room, eager
as always for his beloved routine.
Over 7000 served – days that is.
He smiled, announced that fact often
I observed.
Age brings wisdom, character, experience.
I etched that notion into my memory
and thought of achieving
Age.

The glare from the blue, green, and orange plastic
seats battled with “The Today Show” for my
attention, I ignored both and
cursed myself silently for being early
for being observable.
“One of these things is not like the others…
one of these things is not the same.”
She exhaled heavily.
I blessed her years, her experiences.
The aged boast of
battles fought for them
with another’s hands, while they
idle: chemically induced sleep.
The young scoff at such nonsense
for they find finality in simplicity
not mortality.
Broken bones heal much more simply
than broken bodies.

The call arrived matter-of-factly.
I obeyed – Pavolv’s gifted lab animal.
I averted her gaze, owed myself that.
Something to ponder as they strapped me
Down, immobilized, controlled,
forced into a familiar perspective
where I could see movement but
no faces.
The aligned the field; the computer clicked off
another day.
“Five more days…five more days.”
The bitter paradox –
we wish our lives away and then we
want them back – full refund.

They left the room; they
always did – a procedure of
Protection.
Her words rang again,
“I’m almost finished.”
“Five more days.”

Scars fade and hair grows back.
Years soothe, and age
comes long before wisdom.

Malignant mixed tumor: right parotid salivary gland
Age 19
Heather

Heather – The Long-Term Cancer Survivor

(Cox North Hospital: 7:45 a.m., January 20, 1992)