The nurse swabs my chest with brackish iodine anesthetic. Skillfully, she pushes the blunt needle, like a thickened thumbtack, through the flesh of my chest and into the opening of the port. I gasp and hold my breath... It’s with great effort that I keep my eyes open and chin up, trying to ignore a case of mild tunnel vision. Next the nurse hangs the first bag of chemo drugs to my IV stand. Drip by drip, it enters my bloodstream. Down the tube and through the port, the blue fluid runs cold in my veins.

Excerpt from "Cure By Poison," The Art of Surrender; Image: Leaf Makes Fall, Copyright © 2005 Becca Smith, All Rights Reserved

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