Chemo Resumes Tomorrow

It’s 3 am or so.
I haven’t looked at the clock.
I’ve been awake for awhile.

Why am I awake?
I examine my feelings.
There’s something...
not exactly Scared,
more like a low-lying Dread.

A new feeling.
A knot at the top of my stomach.
It's been quickening for days.
Making me feel either ravenous,
or too full.

It’s been four weeks
since I sat in the blue plastic recliner,
the poison seeping slowly into my arm.

Only bad things can happen
by beginning this again.
I am weak,
exhausted much of the time,
I strain to climb the stairs from the yard.

My thin hair is hanging on
by threads,
ready to drop off at the least disturbance.
Eyelashes are gone, eyebrows thin.
Hairless arms and legs, like an alien.

Friends say you look great.
Your eyes still sparkle,
your energy is good.
It’s a scam I inadvertently perpetuate.
It’s really their energy I slurp.

When I go home,
and am alone,
I drop into a shallow pit.
Not all that deep.
I can climb out when necessary
and go to the grocery store as though
nothing were wrong.
But I’d rather not.

In the dark of the night,
here’s what I dread.
I dread that I will not recover
from yet another assault on this body.

In the morning, the dread is gone.
But it’s tracks remain.
I get into the car to drive to treatment,
I remind myself that I am NOT my body.
I am more. I am spirit,
pure and eternal.