Sick Train (Poem)

I didn't know it at that the time

but when the ER doctor said it's not likely, too healthy, too young but possibly lymphoma

he pushed a lever and the tracks changed.

This path was not on the official itinerary. There would be waiting, waiting, waiting and more waiting. There would be an insufferable amount of waiting. 

Annoyed, I employed my assertive tone with the conductor. The one I reserved for getting my way. 

There's been some sort of mistake.

I'm suppose to be going that way (motioning back to the path before the ER visit.)

No, really. I'm entitled to go that way (more urgent motioning back to before).

This place with its jaundice faces covered in masks is not for me, you see. 

He unfazed, I began pleading. The manifest. Please double check the manifest.

With my name, date of birth and insurance information, his computer said tests, scans and biopsies all confirmed my location. 

Offering comfort, perhaps comeuppance, he urged acceptance.

Everyone wants to believe they are special. 


The Cost of Cancer

Open House (Poem)