scrawls
still cheaper than therapy*


8.12.08
from four thousand miles
and there is a scan, and then a surgery, and afterwards there is a long, long wait on the cytology, or the biopsy, or the histology, and all i have is a stupid, old-school, staticky telephone to the hospital, full of delay, and it's like everything stops, hanging in the air with visible, shattered dust. Everything stops, somewhere outside the window, the world is still going, it must be, but everything stops, until the test comes back and then it is over, or it all begins again.

and i'm not close, and i'm not near, but the immediacy is still an eighteen wheeler to the face. If i weren't so damn good at keeping it together i think i'd have moments of reeling.

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scrawled @ 21:18






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