Alone With My IV
drip
drip
drip
each drip of chemo makes me want to hurl
each drip brings me closer
closer to what?
life
death
somewhere in between
what happened to Quinn?
last week
we dripped
together
now he’s gone
something about too many white cells
or too few white cells
killing the wrong cells maybe
doesn’t matter I guess
today
I only have strength
for my own
drips
_______________________________________________________
This is a work of fiction. I have not experienced chemotherapy myself but I understand that it is a bitter/sweet experience being with others who are going through it along side you; a chance to form unlikely friendships and bonds. In reality, I think we always face illness alone.
More flash fiction can be found at Friday Fictioneers here. Tell your story in 100 words or less.
Be well,
Tracey
What's for dinner, Doc? 
Sad. The fragmented format of this piece reflects the fragmented thoughts that goes through the mind of the cancer sufferer.
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I’m feeling fragmented this week so the format felt right.
Thanks, T
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Dear Tracey,
I’ve had too many friends, not to mention my mother, experience this. The way you’ve crafted it makes it even more powerful.
One little nitpick…the fourth line, did you mean ‘makes ME want to hurl?’
As always you bring a fresh new voice to flash fiction that I’m thoroughly enjoying.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you Rochelle,
Typos make me want to hurl. 😦
I thought you were taking a well deserved break this week so I’m honored that you stopped by.
tracey
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I’m only taking a break from writing. I’m a little obsessive about reading. 😉
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last week we dripped together. This is my favorite line. Somehow it seems there should be a solidarity in “dripping”.
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Alicia,
Solidarity? I don’t know. I hate to be around others when I’m sick and vulnerable. That’s probably not “healthy”. Ha ha
Tracey
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I have happily not experienced anything like this.. especially the three last lines of first stanza is chilling, as well as the first person perspective.
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I think there are things worse than death, maybe that’s what I mean by somewhere in between. That is not to say that I wouldn’t take chemotherapy if needed because I definitely would.
Thanks Bjorn
Tracey
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i kind of like it even it’s a little morbid. every word drips in the right places.
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I have been rather morbid lately. I promise that there is much joy in being a physician and I should write about that. Thanks Plaridel.
Tracey
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A sad realization of such a powerful chemical that kills in order to save and as always your story is excellent.
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Chemotherapy has gotten so much better during my career and many patients are saved by it.
Thank you Joy
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It seems to have improved by leaps and bounds in the past ten years.
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It’s so sad when the cure is almost as bad as the disease.
Good piece.
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I’m sure it feels that way when you’re in the middle of treatment. I was trying to convey that uncertainty in this piece.
Thanks Mick
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This is brilliant Tracey. Really well done.
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I thought you might like it and I’m glad you did,
Tracey
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TV documentary C is for Cancer played this week. Tough medicine sometimes rejected like by young friend of ours who went the short sharp morphine route into oblivion.
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Patrick,
One thing that I know for sure is that only the cancer patient can decide what’s best for them and sometimes the outcome is the same regardless of the choice, with aggressive cancers. It’s so much harder to watch in the youngest patients. I wanted this character to appear young by use of a slang vernacular. (And the 3 typos that I fixed) ha ha
Tracey
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I like the format of this piece following on from the drip, drip, drip. Nicely written.
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Thank you Claire. I could feel the drip, drip cadence as I wrote.
Tracey
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Another fascinating sensitive piece. A sensitive doctor? Well, whaddya know?!
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Perry,
I liked your advanced parenting skills this week and I’ll take Batman over Superman any day, even at minimum wage.
Tracey
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This is so good too. This tap photo seems to have inspired some serious writing this week – well done, very well written.
KT
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Thank you KT. It is such a simple photo too.
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I loved this piece. Common suffering often creates a common bond. The drip, drip, drip, set the tone perfectly.
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Thank you Russell. I believe that’s true about common suffering.
Tracey
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Great story. I can imagine it being just like this with the poison entering your body, hoping it kills what it’s supposed to. Also wondering what’s happened to other patients who just don’t come back any more.
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I suppose when someone disappears from the infusion center these days the nurses are bound by law not to discuss other patients so those left behind will always be left wondering.
Tracey
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That somewhere in between place – described very effectively. Quite hard to read (in the nicest possible way!) and very sad.
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I really need to bring more joy to this space but the sadness is easier to write. I’m glad you stayed to read anyway.
Tracey
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Situations like this show us that we are alone with ourselves, always. I like the strength of the MC shining through despite the sadness and stress, she doesn’t give up. Great story/poem.
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That’s an interesting observation. I thought my character sounded defeated but I like that you see her as strong. Thank you for the though provoking comment.
Tracey
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I’ve never had cancer either or been in the room when someone was receiving chemo but I feel you described jst as it would be.
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Thank you Dawn,
I think the stream of consciousness works here since she’s alone with her thoughts and the slow drip, drip, drip of the IV, maybe even dozing off and on.
T
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Tracey, I like the fragmented feel of this, especially for your subject. I bet it is a lonely experience. Nicely done.
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Amy,
I would think so.
T
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Way too sad to click the “Like” button, but excellently written.
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Sandra,
There needs to be more buttons. (Like the post but hate the subject)
Thanks for commenting,
Tracey
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Now that is an original take on the prompt! It’s heart wrenching.
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Joseph,
I just can’t color in the lines. Never have been able too.
🙂
Tracey
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Sometimes that is a very good thing.
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Very realistic story, Tracey. I know what you mean by wanting to suffer in private. I need to keep as much control of my mind as possible. I don’t like being touched any more than necessary if I’m in pain. You must have used your knowledge as a doctor to make things more real. Well done. — Suzanne
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Yes Suzanne,
I have three decades of stories to draw upon.
Thank you,
Tracey
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Poetic, painful, and powerful.
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