68/366: where cancer cells hide

by Georgia


Todays prompt was “window,” but I decided I liked this picture the best today. And I’m sure I could stretch the window analogy far enough to fit. Tiny needles opening miniature windows into a usually dark space . . . I won’t try to stretch that far though.

I’ve helped with hundreds of spinal taps at my work. “Round your back just like a cat.” “Just breath.” “Relax. It’s Ok. Squeeze my hand as hard as you need to.” “Just a pinch and a burn. Breath.”

I never thought it would be something I would be accustomed to seeing on my child. Alas, here we are anyway. And it does not escape me how incredibly lucky we are to have access to these medications: Versed for peace and forgetfulness. Ketamine for sleep and comfort. Methotrexate for the killing. When I close my eyes, I see the yellow poison, gently mixing with clear spinal fluid like the lava lamp from my teenage bedroom. Poisoning. Hopefully healing.