Monday, April 21, 2008

Spring at 50

I drove alone to the clinic.
Heavy traffic.
Heavier cloud cover.
The wind chill minus 17C
well below average highs.

No average April,
After seven perfect months
of waiting
Alone I sit in the waiting room
Cheap coffee tables hold magazines
with cancer cures and airbrushed girls
The reception counter mercifully high
I don’t have to avert my eyes

No average doctor,
Here. Mid-morning at the specialist
and no waiting
I’ve been here before
at six weeks gestation
That turned out well if you don’t
count the ways he contradicts
me at every turn
my lone child.

in winter’s pale I undress
from the waist down
and wonder
if he also meant socks

I study
while I wait, the Feminine
Reproductive System
He enters
alone says that’s how it’s supposed to look

At his questions
I chant rehearsed history
family conditions
who’s had What and the Associated Risk

Not your average ovary
Left one
Fully involved fibrous

Needs to come out
to make sure
it’s benign

Nurse should have kept quiet
as she booked it mechanically
24 hour stay
general anesthetic
Must be big if he wants it this quick.

I drive away
unnecessary errands
report to Brent mechanically
discuss convenient date.

At home
I sit with the dog
curl under comforting fleece
drink wine
eat chocolate and tears

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