I once had an argument with a guy who misquoted a war poet, oh and the lady who asked why I was applying to be her assistant when I should be doing her job (and she didn’t feel threatened!) -priceless stuff…
I thought about the day I went to the GP…
“So what is your worry?” the good doctor asked,
“A lump, well a bump”, my emotion was masked…
“I wished for a cyst that you might seek there,
It’s cancer I know though, please don’t spoil my hair…”
The history, no mystery, my mother’s sarcoma,
Heart beating, defeating, my hopeful aroma….
And suddenly all we can speak of is veins,
No talk yet of treatment plans, surgical drains…
Your pity, I’m witty, connection one finds,
Mastectomy starts off a meeting of minds…