Seven of sixteen, soon halfway
Through radiation treatments.
First thing on weekday morns,
In and out in 15-20 minutes.
Accompanied by variety of pals,
Comforting, dependable, light.
Still, teeth-gritting reality skitters
The edges, re-asserting each day.
No pain, only physical discomfort,
Adds to disorientation--is this true?
Not the "Why me," at all, but the
"Can this really be true?" tilting.
Guts roiling and eyes darting;
Images forming and dissipating.
Mind struggles and grapples
To place reality in proper locale.
Totally true and not disastrous;
A "thing," yet not a huge ordeal.
Day by day until 16 days go by.
Then 5 years of tests and meds.
Day by day, moment by moment,
As always, as usual, as true.
Ann Beth Blake
(c) October 29, 2013