A LATE JULY

A LATE JULY NIGHT

I wonder if anybody knows that I cry myself to sleep every night. I wonder if they know I want my fan on to move the atmosphere, not the air. I wonder if they can understand what its like to wait every morning for long strands of hair to fall loose and crawl toward the plughole in the shower. Or that I still allow at least half and hour for my showers and nearly always accidentally ask for someone's help in dressing my PICC line. I wonder if they could ever comprehend the reasoning behind me volunteering that I have cancer but hating it when people ask.
I know no one will ever understand that I miss it. I hate being well again. If I am well than I can fall sick again.

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