I am back in my body again,
the pain gods have forgotten about me
temporarily, or are having a nap,
if gods do that sort of thing.
In the oncology office, the nurse has
questions, questions, questions.
No, I’m not angry.
No, I’m not disappointed.
No, I’m not sad or depressed.
How am I feeling?
Just accepting.
Ready to do the next step,
the next biopsy,
the next radioactive tracer,
the next invasion of my body by my allies.
No, I do not need a referral to a social worker.
You must? Simply because I said I sometimes
think about taking the short way out because of the pain?
Yes, well, it’s an exceptionally excruciating pain at times.
Still, really?
Well, can I change my answer? Thanks.
No, thank you, a social worker referral is not necessary.
A dietitian referral?
Will I need to pay out-of-pocket? No?
Great, okay, yes, I would like to speak with a dietitian.
Yes, I will need wound care.
The tumour has broken through the skin.
What does it look like?
Well, kinda like I am trying to cough up a hairball
through the side of my face.
Haha, yes, I know, disgusting.
Yes, my advance care plan is in place and my family notified.
Yes, I can handle my own activities of daily living.
No, I am still too weak and cannot exercise much or work right now.
Not even a walk around the block
without eliciting excruciating pain.
But I can create!
Yes, when the pain gods are sleeping,
I can create!
