Broken Vessel

Cancer is so f——ng dumb. It’s like okay let’s have the surgery to eliminate this threat to my body.

Dope.

And five more after that until the threat is *actually* finally done.

The trade off of not having cancer? Your whole body aches so much.
Always.

It’s a dark, slow, heavy, cramped existence laying down in bed.

When I sit up, on my bottom,
my hips ache and fail to find support
in where my womb once stood.

It’s an empty space,
how
does empty space just

hurt?

I default to the fetal position casually
and my family has forgotten my surgeries.

“I just don’t feel well.”

And the looks, the unspoken words,
the dishes in the sink,
my 3 year old who peed in her pull-up,
the fact the kids had brownies for dinner,

just shame my capacity.

Because that’s my capacity.

It is.

I pray one day God restores this vessel while I am in it.