In the hospital, they say, the tumour has spread to your spine, which is causing the weakness in your hand. They will give you radiotherapy to try and combat it.
There are no words, or poetry for this. There seems little respite or consolation from this thing attacking you from all sides. Outside, in the rain, your wife and family live their lives, burdened by worry. For now, you have nothing to give them, or anyone. It is a bleak time. Knowing you are loved, your head is still above the water.
There are no words, or poetry for this. There seems little respite or consolation from this thing attacking you from all sides. Outside, in the rain, your wife and family live their lives, burdened by worry. For now, you have nothing to give them, or anyone. It is a bleak time. Knowing you are loved, your head is still above the water.
