Sunday, March 3, 2019

Another Spring




“I’m sorry,” the specialist said. “Given the ultrasound, the testing doctor and I think it gives every appearance of being malignant.” The lump on my ankle had started growing. It now was the size of an egg from a small speckled hen.

“Get it off!” said the doctor who did the pre-op tests, recoiling.

I could gross my grandkids out by asking, "Do you want to squeeze it?"

Oddly, I felt no fear. I thought, well, this is the pathway we’ll be going down, a diversion from the one I had assumed I was on. I readied myself for the journey. I put on my wolf medicine: a silver wolf head on a leather thong, my wolf sweatshirt; I took up my walking stick. Ready.

They fast-tracked me to the oncology clinic in the city. The surgeon and his team wafted in the door on a tide of positive energy. All smiles, he looked at my egg. “It looks to be encapsulated. If it is benign, we’ll just take it off and you won’t need to come back.”

Wow. I had not known that was a possibility.

All went well. It was encapsulated, and benign, and when I got the news, I had to re-adjust my thinking once again from the harder path I had thought lay ahead, to one that was, itself, much more benign.

With gratitude, with the understanding I had been granted a great gift, I would get to enjoy yet another spring. And more after that.


250 words

For Magaly’s prose prompt at Telling Tales With Magaly : to write the story of one of our poems in prose. This one is from the poem "Traveler, Diverted On the Path", written in February 2013. The one regret I had, when I thought my energy would be going towards battling cancer, was that I had not archived my work in book form. With this reprieve, I immediately began doing so and now have a nice little shelf of books to (hopefully) keep my life’s work from being taken to the landfill when I die. Smiles.




22 comments:

  1. I love your preparation, your wolf talismans and acceptance of a hard journey. I just lost a friend to pancreatic cancer — diagnosed in December, gone in February. She, too, girded herself with reason and acceptance, chose a natural outcome. I am so glad your journey became a sunlit path.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You are Light, dear friend. All was, is and will be well for you. "I put on my wolf medicine: a silver wolf head on a leather thong, my wolf sweatshirt; I took up my walking stick. Ready." What beautiful words. And inspiring.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I love the quiet strength of this. Of surrounding yourself with symbols of strength and love, and knowing that the way forward requires following the landscape presented before you. I am glad you had many springtimes after that and hope you have many more.

    ReplyDelete
  4. You are the epitome of strength, courage, wild!

    ReplyDelete
  5. This is such a relief, and I so admire your strength in preparing for something even worse... and you are still with us. The scene were you invited your grandchildren to squeeze it made me smile.

    ReplyDelete
  6. feeling no fear, how brave!!! I suppose hope and faith filled up every space that was a truly amazing tale
    Happy Sunday
    THEN MOON SMILED: a haiku fiction sequence
    I did not link to PU today because i did poetry, still drop by

    much love...

    ReplyDelete
  7. I'm in love with the emotions this story feeds into my reader's heart. The mood, the understanding that if things go wrong, well... we'll do our best and keep on going, speaks to me in my own language. Scary things can destroy us if we let them. And when we don't, even after finding out that they weren't as horrific as we thought they were, we still win.

    The detail about the color of the hen made me giggle. The same goes for asking the grandkids if they wanted to squeeze it. I'm famous for saying things like, "Ooh! this is oozing. Do you want to see it?" It makes life interesting, doesn't it.

    Again, I LOVE this one with all my heart. It's the kind of memoir I would read from beginning to end without stopping.

    P.S. I'm so glad for the results.

    ReplyDelete
  8. I guess we would say, "You were lucky." A good write, and a happy ending.

    ReplyDelete
  9. We sometimes get that special reminder of the gift of life. I loved the way you told the tale.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Oh this is such a heart-stirring write, Sherry!❤️ I am so glad you shared your journey with us and that everything worked out in the end. You are an important part of our lives!!❤️ Wishing you light and love.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I was enraptured by your story and its unexpected, happy ending. Then I read the poem, and loved that gorgeous recounting even more. Congratulations twice over!

    ReplyDelete
  12. Beautiful and gentle and kind--much like I see you!

    ReplyDelete
  13. What a wonderful outcome to your fears, Sherry. Dealing with something that could have a scary outcome is so frightening. One continues to think of the worst possible possibilities. The blessing of seeing yet another spring (and more than that) is a wonderful one. Sometimes we only begin to appreciate this when it seems we may NOT see another one! Wishing you many, many more springs.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Memoir of perfection, egg and all. Thank you for taking me on this journey.

    ReplyDelete
  15. I admire your courage and faith in your tools to help get you through this test in the journey.

    I put on my wolf medicine: a silver wolf head on a leather thong, my wolf sweatshirt; I took up my walking stick. Ready.

    Always a pleasure to read your words of wisdom.

    ReplyDelete
  16. My dear Sherry, I am so thankful that you are well. ❤️ I love your faith and courage. Sending you love.

    ReplyDelete
  17. Love the way you told this story - its clarity (speckled with personal ruminations) carried me along as it unfolded to that wonderful dance-of-joy finish.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Hi Sherry, I am very glad that you are well. So I say "really enjoy this spring!" Thank you for coming by. I was very happy to see you. My best, Liz

    ReplyDelete
  19. Yes, I love your preparation for what you believed would be a dark journey. Thankfully it wasn't and it spoke to you to preserve your poetry. After all, we poets pour out a bit of our soul with every poem.

    ReplyDelete
  20. We're always having to readjust our thinking as we continue along the path, which (darn it all!) never seems to be straight enough!

    ReplyDelete
  21. A wonderful story Sherry, and what a joyous ending.

    ReplyDelete
  22. This is inspiring! The balance of preparation gave the ending a spring.

    ReplyDelete

Thank you so much for visiting. I appreciate it and will return your visit soon.