Another Basal Cell Skin Cancer
This time on my neck.
The nurse apologizes
for the pin prick and sting
of the needle, numbing
tender skin. No,
I don’t feel anything sharp
There?
There?
There?
So the doc proceeds
to slice, excavate, cauterize and stitch me up.
No pain,
just pressure, the smell of burning flesh, tugs and snips.
Beneath the surgical drape,
my vision is reduced to opaque white;
the paper crackles next to my ear.
The doc and I chat about the vacations
we’ve decided not to take, this pandemic year.
I feel both acutely aware, and disembodied.
Afterward, the doc says,
You know the drill
(for post-surgery wound care.) Yeah.
I could write the instructions myself.
His eyes smile above his mask. He pats
my shoulder.
And that’s that
until next time.
7 thoughts on "Another Basal Cell Skin Cancer"
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Yep. that’s exactly it…. til next time! me too.
I think you just wrote the instructions for the things age faces
Kathleen – My heart hates that you have to go through this again. The poem is a compassionate and raw look at a journey many people go through. Thank you for sharing. Hugs!!
So brave of you to share with us. You know how our instructors all tell us ‘voice’ is something you have or you don’t? Well, no one else could have written this for it is so full of your ‘voice’.
been there, done that, right with you, well-described and the penumbra of emotions evoked
The details excruciatingly narrate the outer and inner stories.
Thanks everyone for appreciating this poem. I always have to be grateful that I only have to deal with this kind of non-dangerous cancer, and not the more lethal types!