Ten days ago we were heading back from Stradbroke Island with the knowledge that I was more than likely going to receive a diagnosis of breast cancer on the following day. I don’t imagine that the topic of my health is going to feature highly on this blog over coming months. However, the occasional poem may emerge midst all of the ‘usual’ fare.
Here’s my attempt to make sense of the last fortnight. With gratitude to Patti Digh for the last line.


FLUID
a soak in the bath
liquid surrounds
random self-examination
an anomaly
that’s what we’ll call it for now
a rescheduled appointment
a confirmation
the anomaly has a new label
the biopsies
the waiting
two days on the island
beach camping
nature offers welcome distractions
wind, rain, birds, sea, sand
the GP visit
another confirmation
sleeping tablets suggested
red wine substitutes
liquid sleeping draft
the alcohol free zone can start tomorrow
calls made
commitments cancelled
the surgeon
a date
admission forms
gratitude for insurance
the airport
the family rallying
afternoon tea cakes
totem selfies
shopping for sleepwear
fresh vegetables and fruit for juicing
liquid green
a photo walk to the point on dusk
the hospital
gift packs, flowers
a cushion for afterwards
compression stockings
information pack overload
making blue people from surgical gloves
the glare of theatre lights
an anaesthetist with a Scottish accent
indecipherable
liquid sleep
nothing
eyes open
clock on the wall
rating the pain
liquid comfort
ice chips
sandwiches and rice pudding for dinner
half-hourly observations
normal sleep position unattainable
late night television
black and white reruns
a hungry plea before the breakfast run
honey toast and coffee delivered
liquid sweetness
morning shower
surveying the battle ground scattered with blue dye
more of a skirmish really
two incision scars, new shapes to learn
physiotherapist
social groups on offer
introvert wants to run for the hills at the very suggestion
new phrases join the soon-to-be common lexicon
home
well wishes from all quarters
temporary restrictions dawning
new routines necessary
the vegetable garden is getting an extension
as loved ones focus on the ordinary
maintain a piece of the normal
the waiting
in between the surgery and tomorrow’s conversation
and now, just today
liquid salt
hello moment, I’m here
Lynn Buckler Walsh
