imagined conversation

i'm in the chemo room, about to get ready for treatment.

suddenly, a man falls in front of me.  i catch him, and slowly lie him down in a chemo chair.

"i don't want to be here!  i don't want to be here!"  he says.

"no one does," i say. i gesture towards his i.v. "but with each drop of pain this bag gives you, it also gives you a wellspring of hope."

he silently shakes his head.  he begins to look like my daddy, and i hold back my tears.

"what number chemo are you on?"

"seven."

"out of what?"

"fourteen."

i giggle in an ironic way. "it's hard to be smack dab in the middle, huh?"

he nods, softening a bit.

"it's like you're on the top of the mountain.... and each time you come in here, it's another step down. "  i raise my hand high. "seven." i lower my hand further. "eight.....nine....ten.... eleven....." with each number, my voice gets softer, and more dreamlike.....

"and then ....after all the pain, you're at the bottom of the mountain..... and you see a river.  and in that river is a beautiful boat...... you get in, and you can fish for days.  or just lie there, and let it float you along....."

he looks at me in amazement, caught up in my story.  (well, he hasn't called security, anyway.)

"and when you get to middle of the river, you turn around, and notice the mountain's gotten smaller ....and smaller still.  it becomes a hill... a plateau.... a speed bump...... a speck in your eyes......

..you blink your eyes, and the speck is gone."

and i'm caught up in my words, and tearing up.  and he's caught up in the dream, and he's nodding, and squeezing my hand......

and i walk all the way to my last chemo thinking.... "just one more step.... just one.  more.  step."

and these are the things i think of to get me away from this hell.

sometimes, it's all i've got.