Sam Rose - writer, geek, music lover, cancer survivor, optimist, Buddhist.

Tag: ct scan

radiation

we take the afternoon off work to visit the nuclear

medicine department of the hospital

and in the evening I try to access some feeling and I ask
myself

if I cry, will that help flush the radiation out of my body?

or will it just give the bags under my eyes a buttercup glow

as if my pupils had become suns

stop

I say

stop

It was just a CT scan, just a tiny amount of radiation

and you are just melodramatic

you are just a girl, not spiderman

and nothing is happening

but that’s what burns

that still, nothing is quite happening here

no going nuclear, simply stoic

script-sticking

I compromise and just a couple of drops slip through

that is all I can offer

that is all life offers of anything

just a little at a time

just a little glow

Cannula

Cannula:
Cannulook?
Not when they put it in
Not when it pierces the skin
Not when you know this is just the beginning. 

Cannula:
Cannulaugh?
There must be something funny here.
But no; affix that blank expression to your face,
remove all trace of human. No-one must know
you’re actually feeling something. 

Cannula:
Cannuleave?
Not without getting rid of this
and even then, you never really leave
this place, this bed, this mess
inside your head.

Cannula:
Cannulive?
Not with this,
not without remembering,
not without wincing and covering
the crooks of your elbows
(was it the crook of the elbow?
It is hard to remember, my brain is
trying to protect me that much.
Not enough.)

Cannula:
Cannulament?
Always, and probably too much. 

Cannula:
Cannunot
give me another cannula, please?

I had to go for a CT scan today. So, that’s what this was. (Written yesterday in “anticipation”.)

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