I wrote this a long time ago, and thought it might be worthy of eyes other than mine. Most readers these days aren’t very interested in poetry, but in case there are a few who stumble onto this, I hope they enjoy it.
Life for me has come to a screeching halt. My last surgery went okay, and the two skin grafts seem to be behaving, but the large patch on my thigh from which my surgeon borrowed the skin is giving me fits and is far more painful than the surgical sites the skin is covering. I still have a rectangle of dressing that’s stuck to the site and when I go back for my after-surgery check, he’s going to remove the staples holding the two sponges covering the surgical sites, then the sponges, then the dressing stuck to the skin graft site. And I just know it’s going to be painful, and probably bloody. So the days go on and on and round and round and life is just sitting there, waiting for something to happen.