Sloan Kettering

Standing bare foot on the hot charred boardwalk
the smell of baked wood and nails
staring to the side not at the ocean
I can't look at something beautiful right now

Mom is at the pay phone calling Mary
Her best friend,
the one who drove her to the hospital in her new convertible
so that I could be born

Mom had softly mentioned through out the vacation
Mrs. Mazon was to get her test results from the same hospital
You did not use phones in hotel rooms
she gathered many coins and asked for long distance

I knew the news before she hung up
cancer, a sentence for women in the 70's
we thought they were treating her
decades later I learned, there was no treatment, just pain meds

The truth struck me down
a rush of sadness, nausea and disbelief
I felt betrayed for me, for women, for their families
for the lies and losses, for Mary

sad, all over, for the lack of respect
For those that bring forth life,
No chances, no research for women
How could they ignore, did they not love their own mothers?

A hearse arrived at sunset as we played on my street
A friend said Mrs. Mazon died and I yelled at them "take it back"
I could not believe it was not an ambulance for one last chance
I refused to believe it until I saw men rolling something out, than I cried

30 some years later I stand at 66th & 2nd Ave
A glistening new cancer hospital is complete
I still feel the betrayal and am choking back
People of medicine let women die

A new cathedral to save the dying
What is the truth?
How can we save our sisters and daughters?
Will they tear this building down when they have found a cure?

I met a boy

I met a boy standing with his back against the counter, arms crossed, legs crossed.
He would remove a hand from his arm to gesture but it always found it's way back the the
fold of his other arm. I fell in love with this boy and watched him become a man.
I can remember times when he would say something walk away and we were so perfectly in tune he knew how long my mind would take to say Huh? than he would turn to catch me looking at him and we would both burst into laughter. He did that to me in December of 1988 than came into the kitchen and grabbed me jokingly and made me laugh even more and I was already in love. I didn't know it. I thought he was just the greatest friend a gal could ever ask for. He knew something about everything and we talked endlessly about our relationships and past and what we wanted in life. Told each other about people that we met sort of asking for advice on dating and getting it with straight answers and from someone who really cared about the out come. He was my every friend. Than we fell into each other and it was great and it was complicated but I never was attracted to anything easy in life. I still am taken with conversations with him. I love the way he thinks and speaks and his perspective and that he asks me for mine.
I love the way he folds those arms. He is a great dad and a great husband and lover, handsome, heartfelt and emotional, passionate, caring, vulnerable, funny, frighteningly intelligent, calm. I love him.

My Brain

My mind is blown out by the lunacy
I see it in chunks around me on the pavement
feeling that I have pulled parts out with my hands
just to relieve the pressure
Looking back I always knew it was there
I chose to ignore it and accept it
the pieces that came out in my hands
Poor cerebrum, hurt so much from the disregard
Some of it leaped out on it's own quest
It had to come out to stop the tears
I thought alleving the pressure would make the pain less
but the hurt has been there so long
I have ignored it's cry
now it is a collicky baby that constant holding
can not heal the bereavment for the loss of sanity

Hugs

Dropping my 2 kids in the school yard I realized how they were starting to find their independence and security within themselves. Their comfort
zone now started a block before the gate and I had less to worry about.
It was a good feeling as they need to grow and learn how to think on their own.
Not to be afraid of their ability to make choices without me.
After I hugged and kissed one than the other. I was well past the gate walking along the fence.
Saw my daughter standing by herself in the midst of a pile of bookbags watching me walk off. She ever so slightly lifted both hands signalling that she would like another hug. Startling from a 5th grader amidst the swirl of her classmates playing tag.
I went back in and hugged her and received a deep sweet hug that I could taste and smell
and as I released her I saw the blonde blur of my son heading towards me like a freight train with arms extended. He said I need a hug and kiss on the cheek. He jumped into my arms full force like a pole vaulter. Wrapped his legs around me like a tree climber and nuzzeled in for a good strong hug. Aware of the other boys I hugged him and
hesitated on the kiss. He whispered in my ear " I need a kiss on the cheek too". He hugged me for a good amount of time than both kids went back to their friends on the monkey bars better equipped to face a fall day.

If I could run and jump into my mothers arms and get the love and reassurance we all desire I would be in midflight flying into her arms.
Since I can't due to geography and the fact that it would put her in the hospital I will find my kids and husbands arms to hold me and tell me that I am loved. They always do and it always works. How does a simple hug, human touch give you the super power to fly? I'm pretty sure at this moment if I extended my arms I might just lift off the earth.

To Fly

I didn’t remember this until just now but once I was able to fly. In my dreams as a child flying came to me with the same ease as walking, swimming or breathing. I spent more time in the air than on the ground. Not that my time on ground was not as equally spectacular. I could see a friend 100 yards off and Stretch Armstrong like take one long step and be standing next to them. This was such the norm in my sleep life that for a while I believed it was true. I would talk to my mom about my last adventure while she was ironing in the dining room and she would somewhat politely agree or ask a question that was not too discouraging. Knowing her now it is so touching that she did not discount my belief.

This went on for a week or so. When I filled my sister Rita in on my unseen talent she matter of factly told me I was wrong. Her disbelief shocked me. So I took her up to my sister Judy’s bed, which in my mind what where one took off from. Crawled up on top after first taking my shoes off, of course, butt backed up against the headboard, charged across the bed and soared into the air. When gravity worked its wonders I was convinced that something had gone wrong. Maybe it was her doubt that was my anchor? I tried once more with her in the room. She did not mock me. I needed to practice so she left me to my attempts. I gave it a healthy try until my mom screamed up the steps to stop shaking the dining room chandelier. It was a long time before I took flight in my dreams again but in my waking life I was land locked from that point on. In retrospect I wonder if it was in that moment that I grew out of childish beliefs and moved away from those that included such things as Neverland?

M.S.

They can't say that I have M.S.

and I don't dare to say it either
don't want to say it

Dr's can't say for certain
though off the record they always say
"You will probably develop full M.S. in your lifetime"
Huh?!
but it is screaming out of the back of my throat

Something is wrong with my neural system

I know it everyday and plow on

It is so much more than motherly exaustion

I don't feel things the way I should

waist to toes I don't feel

shoulders to finger tips, dull
When something excites me in life

I feel an electrical pulse throughout my body

that is more like a short circuit

It is interesting and nice to feel something deeply for a change

as my skin is always a bit lacking

I am covered in wax and feel sensations through a thick coating
but I know it is not right

It's like flipping the hall light and the attic light goes on

Funny and different but not good

a photo of my self as a child on the beach with my sister

curled and cracking into hundreds of pieces

colored photo separating from the paper

Eventually the image will disintagrate

it will flutter free into the wind
I feel like it is my hour glass
when my childish image is gone
I will have disintegrated and separated from

my young healthy self

I can only watch

until there is nothing
lack of feeling runs deep

Tell Me Honestly

As I grapple with the moderate physical changes that have been coming my way I know the real struggle is that I am trying to emotionally prepare for the big things. So I've dealt with gray in unexpected places. Places that I never thought about turning gray. Or thickening in places that have never felt so squeezed into clothing on non dressy occasions . Love handles, foot problems, no, real foot problems! So I have dug an emotional little fox hole that I hide inside of privately for those "oh my god" moments as I prepare for the big things. Once digested I crawl out and face the world.

The latest thing to send my into my lil hole was after I ran into a former friend on the street. Former, for no other reason than time and proximity. As we spoke I noticed the sunshine put a glint on the little gray beard that was popping out of the very bottom of her chin. There was no question. There she blows, a beard, a gray beard. It was more than a few hairs of a pubescent fair haired boy. It was full thick growth needing an epilady or large sturdy tweezers or an old fashioned Gilette razor. I wonder if she doesn't see it or doesn't care. One would have to notice a texture change as you wash your face that there is a new wiry substance where there once was dewy soft skin. Do I tell her or do I send her an anonymous note? I personally would die and would expect a friend to embarrass me by pulling me aside out of ear range and let me down fast and hard. Tell me because they care about me and my dignity. Why do I care? Is not caring one of the other things coming my way down the pike?


Said friend has a few years on me. So in my hole I am wondering if there is a beard in my future? Do I need to dig my foxhole deeper. I certainly need to add this clause to my pact with my friends of things that we will tell each other when we don't know any better and someone should tell us. Previously discussed were big things like losing our minds, looking unkept and drool. But I think I need to expand the list. The Things friends and family should tell me about as I age that I would be embarrassed about if I had the sense and was unaware that they were happening to me. Can we make this deal? If you know me and my ass is hanging out of jeans that I should no longer be wearing pull me to the side and set me straight. When I cry from embarrassment and the depths of my dissolution hold me up and tell me something humiliating about yourself. We can have a good laugh and if I'm that far gone I probably won't remember your stained story so you don't need to worry about me spreading tales and I'll owe you one.