Thursday, August 4, 2011

this girl, done with infusions

Today was my last Herceptin infusion! That means NO MORE CHEMO for this girl. No more infusions in my port, no more, no more no more.  All I have left is my great Tamoxifen for the next 5 years, but people have popped pills for worse.

Last night I had my soul recharged--I was able to see some lovely ladies (and a tiny one) that I haven't seen in too long. I was fortunate enough to listen to Lix Lamoreux ( and recharge my roots. It was a great 'herceptin eve'. We wrote some poetry using word lists and the prompt "this girl, she...". 

Here is my soul, recharged:

This girl, she...
has been disected, ripped and turned into a disaster.

This girl, she...
has filled her veins with poison in the name of health.

This girl, she...
is endlessly reminded of death due to the scars near her heart.

This girl, she...
finds dizzying comfort in a dinner plate.

This girl, she...
says thanks for the dark times--
leaving room for the light.

This girl, she...
thirsts to recognize the girl in the mirror.

This girl, she wants to be whole again.
This girl, she tries not to escape grace.


This girl, she...dove into a pit of winter and hot iron, teasing the bubbles from the ruby with her dark fingers crossed behind her back.

Unremarked peonies telling of stories of endless medicine.

Snails profound, she dramatically writes of death--
she, this woman, closes again--unconformed, undetermined, and unremarkable.

Crossing into panic she examines conversations and takes shelter in the light.

This girl, she is latched to the familiar, knotted to the ground--

yet is denied comfort.


This girl, she....bounces.

knotted for thirst, she recognizes the faith in a cowboy.

she crosses in conversation until someone breaks a dinner plate.

she is boxed and loved--burnt by the iron of rest and rejuvenation.

she is subtle medicine, telling of health and regrets.

she is skeptical of examination, yet so familiar.

she is a soul surging with thanks and bisected emotion.

she is comfort, dizzying in identity.

this girl, she is me.


  1. yeah! so happy for you!!! congrats girl!

  2. This girl, she is me.

    So so true. <3

  3. I'm really happy for you, Dori! I'm glad you don't have to have anymore infusions.

  4. Who knew we all had a very real poet within us? So glad you were able to join us at the doula circle and that your roots were recharged.

    So in awe of you dear Dori and love you immensely.

  5. Yay! Congratulations! That's great news! :)

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  7. Thanks for sharing the Liz Lamoreux link Dori, many of her words in her blog resonated with me pretty deeply just now. That's a wonderful and rare experience to find. Plus, she makes word jewelry, I love it!
    Still haven't ever met you in person, but I am so so happy that you are done with chemo!!! Does the port get to come out now too?

    p.s. had to correct my spelling on Liz not Lix's name :-)