Archive of a Breast Cancer Survivor
01.12.05
Metallic in My Mouth
I continue to hear how easy the first two weeks of chemo are to the body. How
forgiving. How the metallic taste in my mouth is only the beginning. The undulating
currents of my stomach have yet to give in to the known flavors of past, present,
and future. I wait anxiously like a child sitting too close to the edge. I
press my toes against the floor knowing there is more to come, a rumble so
deep, I can only pretend to know its power. And with that said I say I am afraid.
I am afraid of the rumble and the undertow. I am attempting to go about my
day possessing bravado when women chemo-saints tell me to expect more. And
like that good student I listen to these women warriors from chemo-past, and
as a student of the future, I gasp with anticipation for the floodgates to
open wide and vast and articulate, like the tsunami of my being which is simply
waiting to be born.