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Fear of the “C”

April 7, 2010

I see you stirring,
shifting shapes beneath
white coverlets.
I kiss the hand exposed there,
and you smile in your sleep.
I try not to wake you
as I quietly slide off
the side of the bed
and tiptoe to the door,
past the monitors and IV bags
hanging like deflated bladders,
multitudes of tubes with needled ends
pricking your hands and arms,
here in the Women’s Cancer Center, “11B”, they call it.
Take a picture
of the inside of my heart,
and you will still find yourself there,
but not like this, not like now.
This was not what I had
in mind when I thought about
spending more time with you.
It was not seeing you lying there
in a hospital gown, with a look
of fear and uncertainty,
The big “C” – cancer – the whispered word.

4 Comments leave one →
  1. April 8, 2010 2:41 pm

    My mom is currently a cancer patient. It’s not whispered anymore.

  2. April 8, 2010 4:03 pm

    I hear you. I feel you. I pray for you.

  3. April 9, 2010 2:36 am

    Many of my family members have been taken by the ‘C’ word. You capture the sadness and reality in the piece.

  4. April 10, 2010 9:49 am


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