Studying Weeds

Tracy Dimond

I mostly think about endings, like the last firefly of summer. How the lake is drained each summer at Cacapon State Park to perfect nature. Trees are excavated, then new saplings are planted to try again. The roots must be rotting while they reach, like nerves during chronic pain.

Unavailable diagnosis. Watchful waiting. One of these fragments is considered a best practice in the treatment of endometriosis. At the root, a diagnosis is a distinctive characterization. A label without a solution while the body continues to rot.

I study dandelions that grow through a row home foundation, below a basement window. Curtains of a deep red fabric. The flower growing through concrete perseveres. The root mechanics are not my questions as the fine leaves. I ignore that they are considered a pest. There was so much joy placing them under my chin while munching on clovers when my body was young and vibrant.

I study the daffodils growing along Interstate 83. March through April, they splash joy along the highway while entering or leaving Baltimore City. Imagery of life and death surround the mythology of daffodils. They are planted on graves. They are a symbol of hope for cancer patients. Endometriosis has been said to be as devastating as cancer, but it has no cure. Still, look for light. Yellow is a sign of solidarity in the endometriosis community.

I continue to study roots like sustenance will come through the words. Google brings WebMD, brings blogs, brings discussion groups, brings no solutions. Measure words, time, hindsight. X years since surgery. If I have had one debilitating period a month for more than 10 years, that is over 120 weeks of cursing my body. More than 20,000 hours of suffering. Factor Y for all the days of lingering chronic pain, then cosign every hospital bill.

I study the backyard weeds pushing through landscape fabric. They remind me of endometrial-like tissue finding every organ in reach. Pull the weeds, spread mulch, like a painkiller coursing through veins. Mundane activities create normalcy. Habits are prescribed to alleviate stress and anxiety. Gargle warm salt water to alleviate a sore throat. Pour boiling salt water on weeds to destroy the growth. The heat does not ablate the roots. Like endometriosis, excision is the only action that pulls out the source. I pour vitamins down my throat, shun gluten and dairy, curse every time the pain and fatigue creeps into a day. Shower in a bronzer and red lips as a costume of health.

I am still planting. Let me show you my sunflower, crumbling on a city lot. She waits for water and strains to light. She asks for nothing and screams to be heard.