The man wasn’t yet forty
Had cancer four times
Told her; This time I can’t survive it
She asked; Why are you still at work?
Don’t you want to leave it behind?
Take a trip? See the redwoods?
But before he answered, she knew
The photos on his phlebotomists table
Of three little faces, told her why
And it made her angry that they both lived in a country where
Dying people had to work for their children
To receive healthcare
And she was more angry
With her own lack of appreciation
For a healthy life that she possessed
Or any reason to try so hard
And he was brave because he had no choice
And she was weak
Because she did