I’m discharged from the breast clinic,
A small step for a health cynic,
Tied up the gowns, hung up the frowns,
No longer dodging let me downs….
No more the annual mammogram,
I’m gambling or I’m fixed, I am!
The plastic chair, the tears, the stare,
The buttoned blouse I choose to wear,
And hushed impending everywhere…
Won’t push my luck, just au revoir,
I’ve huge respect for all who are
Receiving letters, invites white,
A first appointment, cancer fight,
Hold tight, maybe you’ll be alright…
I have been very lucky and so as I skip away from the breast clinic it feels like I actually got away with it? Whilst that may be weak comfort to those who are still on the watch and wait list, please believe I know a smidgen of your feelings and I wish you well too…