Ellen was a teacher, drug/alcohol counselor and school counselor for 32 years. Always being fairly “unique,” she was diagnosed with a unique form of breast cancer – one tumor followed by two more malignant tumors – in 2007. Ellen and her husband, although native New Yorkers, have lived in Seattle for 41 years. They have two grown children, two grandchildren and two standard poodles.
Could Be Cancer
Futile attempt to make eye contact
The man in the white coat looms over me in the ultrasound room
Doctor, what do you think?
A plea, a question, a whisper
In a voice that was not mine but emanated from me
He spoke into his armpit
Could be cancer
He uttered expressionless
As if he said could be cloudy with a chance of rain
Words like water droplets remain stagnant in the air we both shared
Discarding the hospital gown
To later learn
Escaping was impossible