I wrote this at the start of my treatment - not exactly how it happened there was no one with me - but my thoughts were as follows:-
You say hurry up.
I say, ‘I’m trying, I really am trying’.
We pass yet another closed door with an unpronounceable name as I feel myself pulling ever backward’s
not keen to find the one we want.
I unwittingly take in the smells along with the clanging of voices as they go about their daily chores.
The urge to run swells up inside of me - the sense of your isolation rising thickly like the smoke from
a newly stoked fire…
I feel as if I have already died leaving nothing of substance - the child, the woman that was me, already faded into some unknown existence
Maybe, it was better this way - to never know the answers whilst waiting for the dreaded routines that will soon take over my life.
You offer up not a covering of comfort -
Maybe you are as lost as me, TELL ME, why don’t you, that it will be alright
just to hear the sound of your voice breaking through the thudding of my fears offering me (I know not what) … at this lonely, lonely moment in time, I would gladly take that.
All too soon we find the name on the door we are looking for, my journey’s end.
I go inside - you turn to walk back the way we have just come.
You will go and get a coffee maybe even a cake.
I don’t know why I keep that image of you locked tight
as I am beckoned to sit and wait - for who knows what…
Poppy xx