“I’m Not Being Dramatic…”

“… I think today is the day.”

These are the words my mother said this morning, after she woke me up to help her find her pain pills.

Last night my oldest sister decided to purchase her a new sorter for the meds she now has to take, everyday–so upon waking up, her confusion was expected, by myself.

“Call Jamie, I need to go to the hospital.”

I’m currently sitting in Room 5.

It better not be the last day.

I’m over being in Room 5.

I don’t want to do this today.

I’m numb in Room 5.

I took a tab from her bottle.

I despise Room 5.

I snorted two lines I crushed.

I don’t want to be in Room 5.

I’m not meant for Room 5.

I’m pacing in the corner of Room 5.

My mother has cancer and I…

“You tired, baby?”

I can only shake my head, in the negative, in Room 5.

I’m crying in Room 5.

I’m a little high in Room 5.

After her next scan…

We’ll be moving from Room 5.