The doctors are asking her to hold her head up, but -
she finds it too heavy to have upon her shoulders;
Aviana's mother tells the doctor that she complains of
back pain and a stiff neck, which he says is from the
slumping of her body forward; Then her father asks, "Well,
what should we do? She says her head is too heavy to lift?"
The doctor nods knowingly, and then asserts that this is
normal for her condition, asserting, "This round of chemo
will weaken her significantly. If we don't see improvements..."
Aviana interrupts, "I'm not getting better, am I?" Everyone turns,
sucks the stale air into their healthy lungs, and they bite their tongues -
Aviana rolls her head to the side so she can look at them, and again
speaks, "I won't get better, will I?" The doctor touches her knee
and looks at her parents, Aviana knows all too well the pain in his eyes
because she sees it in her own when she is trying to brush her teeth
or washing her hands in the bathroom; He aches to tell her the truth;
"Oh, little bird, I wish we knew the answer, but we will keep
hoping against hope that something will work," her mother
breathes what little life there is left to give in that strangled
moment, and Aviana watches not her parents but the doctor
and the way he tenses up before forcing a smile for Aviana,
before squeezing her knee, before he wraps her mother's
hopeless hope up in bandages meant to protect wound until
a better solution is found; "We never give up until we have
to, and there's still options to try," but he's only as convincing
as his dull eyes let him be and Aviana has become an expert
in finding truths in the irises of liars and pretenders; The doctor
isn't hoping against hope for healing, but rather, hoping
against hope that there will be no further suffering; Aviana
takes the side of the doctor, using all of her strength in that
split second to lurch forward and hug him; during which time
he suggests getting a recliner and a neck pillow to help
with Aviana posture to alleviate the pain from being too weak
to hold her own body up; Father says they will do just that, and
her mother even promises they will get an adjustable mattress
for when she is in her room - ending the appointment on a
mostly positive note; As positive as it could be, Aviana figured.
YOU ARE READING
terminal
PoetryThis is an epic poem that tells the tale of Aviana - the middle sister in her family of five who is diagnosed with cancer at just six years of age. It will be a raw telling of how terminal illness wreaks havoc in the lives of those touched by it whe...