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Nothing Left Unexposed
Mark Weiner
August 29, 2016
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“Use the room over there,” she said, pointing towards the closed door to my right and handing me a clear, plastic cup with blue-twist top. “When you’re done, open the slot behind you, place the sample and close the slot door.”
It’s opening day at my cancer hospital. First peek into my innards is a urine sample, checking for protein. Too much excreted protein may signal kidney disease, a death knell to my upcoming cancer treatment. Which would in turn mean a death knell for me. The urine sample will be followed by a needlestick into one of my veins to fill an endless line of blood tubes. Some will be used to check routine blood labs. The rest will be mailed
The Vulnerability and Freedom of Nakedness
Elizabeth Ross
August 28, 2016
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There are many ways to be naked. There’s physical nakedness, and there’s also the nakedness of feeling vulnerable. When my body and hence my life have been out of control, it has felt like nakedness. When I have had no covering against the elements, whether physical or psychological, I have felt naked.
Riding the Rails
William Toms
August 19, 2016
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William Toms
Our train starts to move slowly down well-traveled tracks. Sunny out,
clouds in the distance. We pick up speed.
We offer obligatory greetings,
courtesy How you feelings?
We both know why she’s here
we defer that talk
as if deferring for a few minutes will make it easier.
The trackside turns to trash, human detritus, rusting hulks without utility.
I edge closer, negotiating perfunctory reviews–
her history, her physical, her labs, her imaging–
she owns them, they’re hers alone.
Then it’s time to enter the forbidden room of abnormals:
machine-made “shadows,” the blood’s “too highs.”
Her cloak of woven fear lies quietly on her shoulders.
Selfie
Melanie Di Stante
August 12, 2016
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Melanie Di Stante
In 2000, my husband Brian was diagnosed with Stage IIIB Hodgkin lymphoma, which has since become a prominent part of our lives. My children and I belong to Gilda’s Club, a cancer support community, and recently we were asked to help record a promotional video to be featured at a fundraising gala for the local chapter and on the club’s website.
I’m not a “spotlight” kind of girl, and I don’t feel drawn to video cameras or speeches, but I’ve been going to two Gilda’s Club programs–a caregiver-support group, and a writing group–for nearly five years. Everyone is nurturing, supportive and so nice. My son Marco and daughter Gabriella also attend a group, where they do projects to help build
Happy Feet
D. Micah Milgraum
June 24, 2016
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D. Micah Milgraum
It’s a typical chaotic day on the hospital’s hematology and oncology floor. I’m sitting in a side room with one of my fellow medical students, doing paperwork and making follow-up calls for our medical team.
That’s when the music starts. The sounds of two guitars, a tambourine and a few maracas drift down the hallway. I can’t make out how many people are singing, but the happy voices and the song’s upbeat tempo make me curious: I never thought I’d hear this type of music on the “cancer floor.”
As I look up in surprise, Kevin, our team’s intern, appears in the doorway.
He catches my eye, and after a moment, we both start bobbing our heads to
Chemo Brain
Rick Monteith
May 20, 2016
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Rick Monteith
One weekend about nine-and-a-half years ago, I flew from Minneapolis, where I live, to Atlanta for a publishing conference. A colleague and I were to make a presentation to the vice-president of one of our major customers.
For a couple of weeks I’d been plagued by a sore throat, but I’d written it off as allergies or a virus. When I tried to begin the presentation, though, all that came out was a squeak. The VP was very sympathetic, and fortunately my colleague was able to handle the meeting.
I flew home that afternoon. The next morning, I saw my primary-care physician, who referred me to a radiologist for a CT scan that very day.
First Shower
Kristen Knott
May 13, 2016
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Kristen Knott
“Do you need help getting undressed?” Jon asks from the doorway of our bedroom, one hand holding his BlackBerry, the other tucked into the front pocket of his baggy jeans. His head is slightly tilted, his eyebrows arched, highlighting his forehead wrinkles.
His phone vibrates, drawing his eyes from me to the incoming message. I wait.
Jon reads, ponders and then looks up, half-absorbed in what he’s just read, and registers that I’m still on the bed. His face lights up.
I now have his full attention.
“I think I can manage,” I say, “but I may need help with my shirt.”
Grace
Jacqueline Dooley
May 13, 2016
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Judith Krongard
About the artist:
Judith Krongard is a retired nurse and artist who studied illustration at the Traphagen School of Fashion in New York City. She has illustrated several children’s books, including Doorways to Arkomo and Doorways Home. Ms. Krongard favors pencil, charcoal and pastel on paper, and creates digital works of art on her iPad. To view a partial portfolio of her work, visit sketchesbyjudy.com.
About the artwork:
“Grace” was created as part of
Precipitation: 50%
Rita Ciresi
May 5, 2016
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Sitting in the oncologist’s waiting room is like watching the weather report.