IT’S CANCER
I’m driving to sailing and I
call Mom and John to
ask about the check-up.
It’s been a couple of days so
probably perhaps that means there’s no
bad news to speak of?
It’s not unusual for them to mention
days or weeks later in a conversation
much after the fact
that Mom’s broken her arm
and they had to drive 6 hours to the hospital in Kamloops, twice,
and now she has a metal plate bolted into her elbow.
Or that John lit the computer shed
on fire by accident last week but luckily the
local volunteer fire brigade
of neighbours with buckets
dipping water out of the creek
put the flames out before they reached the house.
John’s flustered and worried and frustrated
and I’m trying to be sensitive but also
pressing him so that I can understand what’s going on.
And yes there is a lump so
I’m asking what happens next and if they’re going
to do some tests to find out if it’s the bad kind.
And John’s says finally, clearly,
as if I should already know
that its cancer.
-Leah Costello
