the doctor says i must milk her body | Camila Cal Mello
she is not a cow i say to the doctor and he shakes his head at me yes indeed she is a cow i turn to look at her i can see how every one of her bones is shivering inside the hospital bed her lower left breast bandage crinkling a long drainage tube dangling i expect her to say of course i am not a cow but her mind is somewhere far away locked in cancer’s lobby waiting to see whether life or death will call her name i turn back to the doctor say she may have changed a lot during surgery lost a tumor lost lymph nodes still she is not a cow he says look at her i turn again suddenly the room smells like manure my feet shuffle over hay i hear a low bellowing coming from her mouth she has a snout four furry legs black hair spread into spots a hospital tag on the tip of her ear i whisper oh god she is a cow and the doctor says she has to be now let’s get her home
the cow is uncomfortable in the car the seats are not made for recovering animals so i drive with one hand reaching toward the back every now and then the cow brushes up against it when we arrive home i coax the cow out of the car she wants to limp down the driveway into the house on her own because even sick she is stubborn i follow closely beside her holding the bottom bulb of the drainage tube like a leash all the way to the bedroom where the cow sighs curls into cotton bedding falls asleep relieved she can finally be healthy again even if only within her dreams
in the meantime i worry i do not know how to care for a sick cow i am just a seventeen year old girl though i have learned how this kind of illness does not discriminate i must be a rancher now must help the cow survive i fall to my knees in the backyard where she cannot see how i break i beg the nature of things to let her live i dig my hands into the earth pluck the greenest blades of grass to wiggle in front of her mouth when she wakes in the next five to eight minutes alive inside the pain of it all
the bedroom door creaks open her eyes are tired slits she laps water from a bucket i filled and i run my palm along her cattle coat then i remember what the doctor said the importance of keeping the drainage tube clear flowing to prevent infection but already her tube has a thick blood clot blocking the healing i tell the cow i need to take care of her leash in hand we hobble together to the bathroom in my head i repeat the doctor says i must milk her body though no one ever told me this would happen
i tell the cow i will be gentle so gentle in the vanity mirror i watch myself duck toward her udders to find the place where the cow stops where the tube begins i thought it would look more secure the truth is that there is just a hole in the cow plastic hanging from it i squeeze the tube between my pointer fingers and thumbs try to milk the clot down down down wonder how hard i would have to pull to yank it all out the tube the clots the liquid the sickness it is my job to get it all out the cow is counting on me only me everything shakes my hands are a blur and i coo to stop her trembling because i cannot tell where her body ends where mine begins so much smell of manure makes me dizzy i am seeing black spots hearing whining still trembling all coming from my own body not hers the tube tumbles from my hands i faint sideways into the bathtub like a cow tipping when she least expects it
i regain consciousness she is looking back at me wide eyed confused the tube swinging from the side of tender human breast i say you are not a cow she says no i say you have cancer she says yes i say it once more to really make sure you are not a cow she says no no i am your mother.
Bonus audio of Camila reading from her essay…
about the author:
Camila Cal Mello is a Uruguayan, first-generation, emerging creative nonfiction writer, and poet. She earned her MFA from the University of Central Florida, where she received a Provost Fellowship in nonfiction. She is currently a PhD student in English, Creative Writing Concentration at the University of Mississippi where she teaches literature on campus and in the Prison-to-College Pipeline program. Her work has been published in Under the Sun, The Acentos Review, and others. Find her on social media @camivcal.