If my small toe had a nail, I would hammer it away.

When life makes me tired by 9:45 am, all I can do is work with my diet coke addiction and power through.

It beings in my small toe, the toe that's nail is so small I put a dollop of nail polish on it so it resembles an appropriate appendage.


It dwells there and spreads its way up to my feet, my feet that hold up this body, my feet that have walked my parents driveway, callused and tough, my feet who took me to doctors appointments, surgeries, chemo and radiation, my feet who lost all feeling and still fight for the right to feel.


It spreads like wildfire up to my ankles--where it burns alongside the snuffed out nerve endings, a friendly reminder of therapies.


Shooting up my legs, which ached and broke during treatment, a seemingly never ending pain, like a star across a dark sky, making its to my behind, puckered with cellulite that shows the weight of breast cancer--large with indignation and missed opportunities.


To my belly which bares the stretch marks of skittles and midnight feedings, of steroids and chemo, of pain and fear.


Next my breasts are once again invaded--like an army of ants, everywhere is taken over, it itches and burns, the memories of trauma. My scars are soothed with the dull heartache, a false sense of protection is provided by the absence of my breasts......replacements left empty, yet to be occupied...


travels then... to my heart--and for a brief moment in time, my heart stops..........and then surges to push the tears from my eyes.