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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Medical · #2046193
This time I get pink, green, yellow and white ribbons. Such an overachiever, am I
The rain falls in impatient rhythm
To match my sadness and indecision
The cancer does not care.

The injections leave me flushed and light-headed,
In its wake, a growing sense of fear and dread.
The cancer does not care.

The imaging techs are sweet and calm
Unlike me, with hope fading gone.
The cancer does not care.

I have places to go and people to see.
So very many dependent on me.
The cancer does not care.

[Endnote: I was recording everything that went on during this morning-full of testing while waiting for yet another test. That’s when I chose to record my thoughts on Ellen. When I saw her colonostomy bag, I wrote: The cancer does not care. So this one is melding of Ellen’s story and my own. My story is The first line of the stanza, Ellen's is the second and the third speaks for itself.]

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