Hospital Triptych - Part 2

I spent several months in the oncology ward on the fifth floor of a Spanish hospital, my wife by my side--sleeping in a chair next to me every night-- while the IV dripped four separate bags of chemo into me, before I even had a chance for an operation, the tumor had gotten to the final stage of growth and had metastasized. So I felt all the details in this poem as so true, so chillingly believably true, and the voice you tell them in so numb with the experience, exactly the right tone for conveying what it´s like to be with someone who probably isn´t going to make it. That´s two brilliant, brutal and affecting poems in a row, MaryBeth.

I´d say that my vision was distorted by my own hospital experience under other circumstances (that is to say, if the poem was just OK but I still could relate because of my own swipe with death and 6 months in and out of hospital with the 4 chemo drip stays and the 33 radiation doses to my neck and throat) but you have got so much verisimilitude here, and I do feel I am a professional poet and playwright, so I can honestly tell you that you have written something very moving, unbearable, and real in this triptych. I am looking forward to the third part.