When eating a pickle
inside the skull is the sound of
crunching glass
loud, no deafening
but just inside the bone.
Outside
a wall of cotton covers the sounds of other’s
talking. Every high pitched noise
the stove timer going off
the washer calling with a problem to solve
feels like a long, thin, knife entering one ear
puncturing the drum of the other
expecting blood to run.
Mouth
coated with a metal wax
that no amount of spitting
and scraping will erace.
Food almost tastes like itself again
until the aftertaste of disappointment.
The cost of killing a tumor is weakness.
Muscles
turned to mush soft flab
that takes years to come back
even a little.
Riding the electric cart
in the grocery store
exhaustion as though one has pushed it from isle to isle.
One of your strongest yet, Joe!
I have watched this process three times with family, a wife, and a friend…
A very apt description of this experience.
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