Playin’ Odds.

He doesn’t tell me I have cancer.

Instead, he says: adenomatous polyposis. He says: genetic abnormality. He says: follicular thyroid carcinoma.

I say: I’m fucking tired of the Latin, doc.

He says: it’s nothing. A small incision and we’re through here.

The date wrote down in my schedule and his, a handshake out the door and he doesn’t know I spend the night googling big words.

The Mayo Clinic, it says abnormal cells grow rapidly, lose the ability to die. Apocalyptic influx of undead cells – night of the living cancer.

The Thyroid Foundation of Canada says this type, it’s not very common. Only 15,000 people annually in North America. North America, the land of opportunity and 516,766,000 people. A 2.9% chance of diagnosis.

The Medical Association says it’s a consequence of allelotyping of follicular thyroid carcinoma: frequent allelic losses in chromosome arms. My arms and no cross to bear.

The thyroidectomy, it starts with a drug: an anesthetic huff or injection. Monitors for heart rate, for blood pressure, for blood oxygen, for blip-bloop back up to the doctor’s slice chorus.

A day’s stay in the hospital for good measure and I’m home with neck pain, hoarse voice, thyroid hormone therapy. Didn’t really need that part of the endocrine system anyway.

The success rate in excess of 95%. A lil’ better odds round the table than the first hand.

But no one tells me I have cancer.

xoxo,
M.L. H’art

Spreekt U.

Passing me on the street, the man, he asks me: Spreekt u het Nederlands?

Caught off guard, choking up my words: Oh, uh, no. I’m sorry.

A hand on my shoulder, he stops me: Kunt u alstublieft mij vertellen waar een honderd en tiende straat is?

He is red. Red pants, red shirt, red face – a full up thermometer taking the downtown temperature of passersby.

With more force: Een honderd en tiende straat.

Polite affirmation, flicking his strange hand from my coated shoulder: I’m sorry sir, but I don’t understand what you’re saying.

Agitation, a hand covering wayward eyebrows, pausing as he swipes a palm over his greying beard; a giant, anxious sigh: Geen begrijpt u niet.

Me, desperately looking for help in the faces of others, shrugging when they can’t: Are you looking for a business?

Shaking his head, a downtrodden look, frustrated he says: Ik kijk voor een bijzondere zaken. Een honderd en tiende straat.

Parroting his words, I am the puppet and he the ventriloquist: Ti-end strat? Ti-end strat.

The words, they roll around my tongue, smooth rocks slick with saliva. I get a feel for the letters: Tenth street? Are you looking for tenth street?

Flashing my palms, a wide open gesture, I count to ten like I did when I was a little girl – slowly, pointing to each finger, saying subsequent numbers louder and louder.

Nodding my head: Tenth street? Yes?

Confused eyebrows rumpled, a deep v of concern pinched tight between small mouse eyes: Kunt u alstublieft mij helpen? Een honderd en tiende straat. Ja? U hoort niet mij.

I throw my white flag in the air – hands palm up to the dark night sky, a show of surrender : I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what you’re saying. I wish I could help you.

The v relaxing, his eyes lighting up: Vergeet het, onnozele meisje.

The despair of failure, my mouth a half moon smile: I’m really sorry. I hope you find wherever it is you’re going.

A laugh erupting from his lean frame as he pats my shoulder, pushing off down the street: Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m just fucking with you!

xoxo

M.L. H’art

Instant. Gratification.

Our culture of instant gratification…

 

“…offers something strangely compelling about the long tease.”

 

“…[is] killing a couple’s capacity to stay together for the long haul.”

 

“…take[s] away from the art form of a music album.”

 

“…gives a whole new meaning to the expression collective memory.”

 

“…focuses the effects of the sexual pleasure drive on a person’s emerging personality.”

 

“…questions legitimacy.”

 

“…is very important.”

 

 

« …questions the point of planning, anticipating, and developing long-term goals.”

 

“…leads us to overindulge in activities with immediate rewards and delayed costs.”