One book explains there’s a rogue cell in your breast
You have to cut the blood supply so it can’t live
But [crikey, how could this happen?]
They’re tough.
The other book a complete manual
Wild and wacky and fun, but
[It’s by a guru of breasts] you’re given it
Straightaway with the diagnosis
People wrote the weirdest, wonderfully fantastic emails
[It’s my best-selling novel that’s never going to be made]
And pictures of flowers, and pathology reports
I never open that folder
“Walking on Air” – it is exactly how I felt
You live with emotion at the surface
[Twanged right at the edge]
You have to be careful
She failed obedience [Rice Krispie for a brain]
Thought I was going to die in the night
She slept curled up in my bed
I owe a lot to the dog
When it fell off, we used her clippers
[Smooth as a bum], the wig was vital
If business women have them, I’ll wear it
It just became part of me
Nobody spoke in yoga, nobody knew why I was there
Never missed in five years of recovery
It was sort of magical [it looked so easy-peasy]
and it was all so difficult