Thursday and A Poem
Dec. 1st, 2011 05:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nightdog_barksMet my radiation doc today. She is tall and dark and beautiful. :-D
Also, the November 28th issue of The New Yorker came, with a poem from one of my favorite writers in it:
Convalescing
I spend the days deciding
on a commemorative poem.
Not, luckily, an epitaph.
A quiet poem
to establish the fact of me.
As one of the incidental faces
in those stone processions.
Carefully done.
Not claiming that I was
at any of the great victories.
But that I volunteered.
~ Jack Gilbert
Also, the November 28th issue of The New Yorker came, with a poem from one of my favorite writers in it:
Convalescing
I spend the days deciding
on a commemorative poem.
Not, luckily, an epitaph.
A quiet poem
to establish the fact of me.
As one of the incidental faces
in those stone processions.
Carefully done.
Not claiming that I was
at any of the great victories.
But that I volunteered.
~ Jack Gilbert
no subject
Date: 2011-12-02 12:48 am (UTC)Finally an oncologist who looks like Wilson ;)
no subject
Date: 2011-12-02 01:05 am (UTC)AT LONG LAST. :-D
no subject
Date: 2011-12-02 06:11 am (UTC)&hearts
no subject
Date: 2011-12-02 08:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-02 12:32 pm (UTC)Indeed. That's what you've done, after all: written down what happened as memento, but kept your mind and heart open to the future. A long, happy future, starting now with a tall dark radiologist.
Will you get tattoos for the radiotherapy? those are also marks of having fought a batltle, good reminders. Or at least that's what one of my closest friends tells me. (hugs) (more hugs)
no subject
Date: 2011-12-02 08:15 pm (UTC)Will you get tattoos for the radiotherapy?
Yep. Supposedly three of them, very tiny, like the dot at the top of a typed "i". I do not think I will mind.