ROCK BOTTOM

ROCK BOTTOM

BRAIN MRI Monday
I am so scared
No good options if results are poor
Poor me
4 tiny enhanced lesions
4 tiny weeks ago

Perfusion study; the contrast released into my veins
60 miles an hour for 60 seconds of stinging pain

Poor me
Hey, fuck you!
60 seconds of pain is nothing 
Rock bottom in that banging MRI tube
A living coffin

He tries to stuff towels around my head
to keep me still
Oh, uh, NO thanks, I say-
I don’t need those; I won’t move

He doesn’t believe me
“If you move we’ll have to start over”
I won’t move, I answer

I always imagine my head as
A 600-pound rock
Rock Bottom
My head Will Not Move
(Because if I move I’ll have to start over)

Can you please raise my head a bit?
It will help me not feel dizzy
No, he says, the cage won’t click closed
and you won’t fit into the machine

I have a small head, or so they’ve said
You can up the click, you prick, you dick
My head will fit
Fit it will 
I know it’s true, I take a pill
I’ve MRI’d 600 times
Please believe my shitty rhyme

Rock Bottom
I don’t have a WHAT IF plan
And I can’t allow myself to think
Because thoughts make me sob
And sobs make me move
And if I move I will have to start over

Poor baby
Rock bottom and my rock heavy head
and my skeptical technician
who sits in judgment behind the glass 
deciding on my clicks, or if I will fit
Or if I have to start over

Well, I don’t fucking move an eyelash
But I do cry out in pain, Fuck!
When they run the contrast
It races burning thru my skinny vein

And then it’s over
And the voice behind the glass says “good job, 
you did a really good job”
Go fuck yourself- you patronizing prick, I think

And finally, I am done.
IV out, I am escorted back down the filthy corridor
to my filthy changing room
I put my own clothes back on
Purel-purel-purel and I begin my ascent
from the basement to STREET LEVEL

The basement is like being in Las Vegas; there are no clocks
Rock bottom
I still feel so heavy

As I leave the basement and turn on my phone
I see 6 million texts
All from dance friends…

I open the text from my dance partner first:
“I'm guessing you've heard the news about Phil's passing.
Let me know if you want to talk. I'm heartbroken. It's so sad.” 

Rock Bottom
6 million messages of grief and shock
6 million dance friends at Rock Bottom

Phil died? I feel like I’m going to throw up
How can Phil be dead?
Nicest man. Good friend.
Incredible dance teacher.
We just spoke. He was fine.

And now Phil is Rock Bottom
We were just making jokes.
Such a good guy.
Massive heart attack.
And now my heart is breaking.

Rock bottom
The boulder can crush us at any moment

The next afternoon my oncologist texts
I begin to sob. I’m afraid to open her text
Rock bottom
My phone is too heavy

“Regression of the metastatic lesions
with no new lesions identified, exclamation point”
She is happy and surprised

I’m shocked by this good news
Because Rock bottom
Because the boulder can crush us at any moment
And if you move, we will have to start over. 

Previous
Previous

DISHWASHER RITUALS; AN EPIPHANY

Next
Next

Nordstrom’s & Clinical Trials