A thread of sadnesses
A thread of sadnesses, a crowd of sorrows, a clutch of fears. An ambush of tigers. A sloth of bears. A murder of crows. A range of mountains. A forest of trees. A flight of stairs. And why not a clutch of fears? I went to see my surgeon yesterday. I think of him as mine now, because that's how my team refers to him. As in, we need to run these scans past your surgeon. When I met with him, he was much warmer to me than he was in the spring. Maybe he is starting to think of me as his patient. He specializes in orthopedic oncology and is startlingly frank about my cancer (I think of the cancer in my body as mine, too). "That leg is full of cancer," he says, as an aside. I know that already, so it doesn't strike new fear into my heart, but it does feel a little like a soft drumbeat in my mind, where I keep my clutch of fears when they haven't wandered into my heart. You might remember I had surgery on my left leg last winter. I had a plate put into the left leg in