We have
one more week
this month
of chemo left
(and then every other month for a year)
and the new physician assistant
wants to add on
an 8 hour infusion;
one that usually
causes Steve’s numbers to crash
(a very bad thing)
and she told us about this
extra infusion
as we walked out
into the hallway
AFTER an appointment with her
en route the third chemo infusion.
Steve is pissed,
and trying to reach the
actual doctor for an explanation
of why the hell
she didn’t listen
the dozen times
he told her this doesn’t help,
and I am exhausted
(which I initially wrote as
I am exhaustion,
and that may be more accurate)
and as always
so far behind.
I should be working
instead of writing
except I can write
half asleep
and making jewelry half asleep
just makes for more work,
plus, I’m still
helping kids with homework
and fixing headphones
and we just finished
capping three flats
of strawberries
our neighbor brought by –
ones he couldn’t sell or eat,
and that we are so grateful for,
because hello,
that’s delicious food –
and earlier today was
sitting for hours in traffic
to get my son to a doctor appointment
and find a pharmacy that
carried the medication he needed
so he’s stable again,
and I’ve only been home long enough to wake up,
eat, get half a sheet of silver clay cut,
cook dinner, cap strawberries,
and help with homework.
I’d be working on jewelry now
only I can’t run Satan
while Steve is on the radio,
and tonight is his weekly scheduled
Eagle Net with the Central Florida HAM radio … thing?
I know there is a name,
but I can’t remember it.
whatever the name,
Satan makes a lot of noise,
and it’d interfere with him running the net,
so I write while I wait
and try to remember
anything else I need doing,
that is quiet.
Clay that needs rolling out,
designs that need reworking,
things that could be cleaned up,
paintings that could be
cleaned up for making into
duvets or prints or puzzles
or anything
that won’t interfere.

And this –
the wait and accommodate balancing act –
is how my week works,
almost every week
because medical takes priority
and getting kids to school and doctors
takes priority
and sometimes
at the end of the day
I think
what would it be like
if that wasn’t the case,
but I’d not trade them for the world,
so it really doesn’t matter.
So my work
is wedged between
everything else
that has an appointment slot
and a deadline,
and it leaves me feeling
like I am not cut out
for running a business
or being a professional.
I am not cutthroat enough
not ferocious enough
in the defending of my time
not quite willing enough
to tell others I love
to no count on me
to not rely on me
unconditionally
and so I worry
I have a reputation
of being slow and unreliable
in a professional capacity,
something I need to pay my bills,
like most adults,
but … at least
my family knows I care enough
to be present for them,
even if i’m not always sure
how I’ll cover
my son’s medical expenses.
At least.
But at what cost?
There is always a cost.
I know.

Most days
I feel stretched
too thin,
so thin
I will never pull myself
quite back together.
A song most women I know
can sing, verse and chorus.