the trailPosted: September 12, 2012
Once having strolled the cancer trail, you become sensitive to the nuances your body sings. Not that anything can be done, still you wonder, look for omens, interpret signs.
In a perfect world weeks of headaches would be the reward of smashing your helmetless head against the sidewalk in repayment of a moment of bicycle inattention. But now the waiting room beckons where surrounded by sick people I shall sit and think about how I don’t care to walk that trail again. Perhaps I shall find a poem while I wait.