Dreading Certainty Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

When I entered
the Teacher’s Center
I could barely contain myself
saying, “All of a sudden
tomatoes
became my favorite
like apples I eat ‘em...”
Just then the cell phone
chimed
Vincent Hale immediately
flipped it open listened
and a moment later said, “Don’t worry
just lay down
put a cold compress
on your forehead
and yes, yes, I’ll be right home.”
Henry F glanced at me.
Vincent moaned, “Mary thinks
she felt a lump
on her left breast
she’s terribly worried so I’m leaving.”
Mary Hale suffered greatly,
in the mind,
nevertheless
such suffering was all too real—
a hypochondriac
the slightest ailment set her off
like two years ago
she experienced a pinched nerve,
but to her
a melon sized tumor
caused the pain
even though doctor after doctor
assured her the situation
would resolve itself
which is what happened
but Mary knew an irrefutable truth—
one day death
and this thought
haunted her like a plague
so she wanted absolute assurance
from every doctor
whatever ailment she thought
she had
would not lead to death:
a hopeless quest
but Vincent loved her
so on and on
to every doctor
in Brooklyn
up to “M”
so far
Mary
still
in terror
yet hoping her luck
would change
with “M”
the first
letter
of her name.