Her text
she’s in agony in some ER
1200 miles from me
she’s in agony in some ER
too far to go
too far to know
she keeps her story
tightly wrapped in journal pages
while I recount to my friend
the text she sent
about pain unforgiving
and systems faltering
an encryption I seek
to decode
I call my Mom
and text my other sister
for answers
we’re all in the dark
when it comes to her
but she texts again
her pain can’t wait
her bowels twisted
and tainted by the chemo*
she’s ingested
she’s bloated, constipated,
belly burdened
held captive
her texts this time
speak of desperation and I sense
the miracle cures
may have ended
I feel hot tears
just beneath a blanket of grief
I feel an urgency too
to unravel the truth
of her incapacity
my sleep is so deep
the next morning
I struggle to crack my lids
what text awaits today?
will we ever know
just how bad it is?
will we be able to
make a difference?
emotional exhaustion
encases me
her life in jeopardy
weighs on me
I wait for the next text
and hope for another miracle
*we found out later her symptoms were not due to chemo, rather the cancer
This poem was written last fall, a year ago, when my sister was still alive and fighting stage 4 ovarian cancer. I miss her and wish another miracle had come. This poem is dedicated to her brave, unflinching spirit when she faced the ugliest of treatments and diseases.
If you or someone you love is grappling with cancer, I send you blessings of strength and care.
-Gretchen Brooks Nassar
