A week ago I had a Mohs procedure on my nose. That means the dermatologist biopsied what I thought was a zit that turned out to be a squamous cell carcinoma. This type of surgery is no big deal to the young “boy scout” who was extremely proud of his suturing technique, but to me, it was uncomfortable and annoying. Ethical ELA was having its monthly Open Write, so the whole thing became a muse for a poem. Scott McCloskey led the exercise in writing about something you were “today years old” when you first learned about it.
Numbed Ignorance
Being a patient is not new to me,
but at today’s years old,
I learned of a procedure for removing
cancer cells off a nose called Mohs.The young doctor told me
“You’re going to love this!”
as he stitched and stitched
as if there’s anything to love about
his brutal touch, about cancer cells, about a hole in my nose.Sure I want to be rid of it,
but I carry the sign,
the cross-hatch signature
he was so proud of, the black eye,
the irritant of a bandage on my face.I am learning that knowledge
Margaret Simon, draft
is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Just hand me an ice pack
and let me go back to
numbed ignorance.
Some people are good at sending cards. I want to be better. It’s a skill I admire. When my daughter’s mother-in-law heard about my little procedure, she sent me a card. I’ve been using Dictionary for a Better World to teach my students about poetry. On Friday, we explored Irene Latham’s poem Belonging which is a pantoum form. I’ve been puzzling with the form ever since. A pantoum is much harder to write than it looks, but here goes…
Kindness
A card came in the mail
addressed especially to me.
As I fingered each detail,
I felt your hand in mine.Addressed especially for me,
little bear with a bouquet
held his hands out to mine
with caring words to say.This little bear with bouquet
hopes I’m better by today.
Your kind words do say
someone cares.You hope I’m better today.
Margaret Simon, for Andree
I feel your hand in mine.
Across the miles you say
in a card that’s in the mail.
Reflections on the Teche 
You have found inspiration in the most unlikely of places. Beautifully crafted.
Way to make lemons out of lemonade, Margaret! I’m glad to hear that the procedure is a thing of the past and hope the healing is speedy. I really think the doctor’s comment was borderline malpractice. Geez! Talk about lack of empathy/understanding! It’s like when they’re looking at some vulnerable part of you and saying “Oooooooohhhhhh,…interesting!” Really!? Ugh!
I loved both poems but was taken about how you made the 2nd poem work. So cool! I also appreciate how you took the feel thing happening to you and turned it into poetry! Such a role model. I hope your procedure is the cure. Hang in there.
Margaret, wow. What a post of news, pain and joy. So much here. I enjoyed both of your poems. “Numbed Ignorance” – I laughed at your introduction about the young “boy scout” suturing your face. Here’s to a quick and permanent healing from the beast. Your pantoum is lovely. I’m sure you shared it with Andree. “I felt your hand in mine.” Beautiful.