Louise

I see her face the first night,
the mammogram held tightly
in her hand, clutching.
the story not clear, but somehow
seeming to say
help me, please help me.

Cancer.
found hiding in the breast,
found when the mass announced itself
to her hand, not before
as screening is not done here.
the biopsy done.
costing so much.
the mastectomy needed,
but impossible to this woman in
this remote Haitian village,
high in the mountains.
the future cloudy, unknown.

help me.
help me.

so little to ask.
so much to ask.

a plane ride, over the mountains.
a plane ride, through the fear of the trip,
through the unknown.
they came to St. Croix.
they stood, alone, lost.
Louise and her husband.
a strange town, a strange hospital.

cancer.
help me.

recognition-- her eyes met mine.
we could not speak words, but she heard.

help me.

It is fini.
your wife is fine.
it is fini.

lost in the bed,
her face shining in the heat of the evening.
her bandage intact, the drains exiting
from the base.
the bleeding slight.
the pain little.

it is fini.

merci.

merci, Louise.
to you I say merci.

Sylvia D. Campbell, MD
October 1996