Friday, January 14, 2022

Suite 256

 

Oncology.

The referral had been to see a blood specialist. She said,” blood.” The sign

plainly     reads     Oncology. The door, that belongs to the sign, leads in to

a waiting room, half full of sallow faces. A dozen

un-asked for words now crowd their way into our heads to wait with us.

As we enter, the receptionist speaks on the phone with

a funeral home in full earshot of all. Everyone hears

the details she blandly discusses. We sit down

as her words sink in. We hadn’t thought past the word, anemia.

 

Lots of coughs,

some wear masks but not many.

It’s the lottery. We all will be returning for new. The weight

is so real and so enormous, breathing is hard.

It’s agreed: tricked is how we feel. Misled or un-led. Oncology was

not the word used by the doctor. Perhaps

in kindness, to not cause worry, stress or simply panic.

 

I can now see

two presenters at an awards show on TV. They seem to be fondling the envelope

while bantering a bit to stretch the time. Finally, one of them slides their finger

into the sealed flap

and withdraws the card from inside and begins to read the determination for

all to hear. The camera cuts away and the announcers reveal

there is nothing until next time. See

you next month.

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