Third Round

You can see how far I’ve come on this journey that I’m already planning my wardrobe for the next round of infusions. The cotton pants for the bottom, elastic waist, and soft material like pajamas. I make a note to order a new pair from L.L.Bean’s. The sweater I haven’t warn since the last cycle, packed away under my bed, deep blue and warm, the two shirts I bought once I was all finished the last time. A bright orange number and light blue one with white flowers. I have two photos of me wearing this blouse in France, my toes just touching the cold sea in Brittany where I hugged a rock much bigger than I am and perhaps woke the fairies from their sleep. The shirts are low enough to let the nurses attach my port to the IV where the liquid that will save me will course through my veins. I love the tinkering I say to Scott who’s trying out some new picks on his guitar, a present from a poet. It’s a beautiful day and I’m about to check to make sure the camelia in our back garden still has enough netting to keep the squirrels from tearing off the buds just about to bloom. Even though it’s bad news, it’s certainly good news that the liquid swarming around and into my cells will make me well once again.