Little Pocket
Sunday, November 30th, 2008
Tonight, my twenty-one-year-old daughter, Little Pocket, phoned. “Mum,” she said, “I’ve got a breast-lump.” My heart stopped for a moment. “I’ve been to the doctor and she’s sending me to the specialist.” I remained calm. “It’s just the body,” I told myself. I asked her questions. “How soon can they get you in? Will they do a mammogram?” “No,” she said, “a fine needle aspiration.” I told her I would make some calls first thing in the morning to find out more, and that we would fly her down to Nelson if it would be quicker. Whatever could be done.
Little Pocket is her Native American name. Her given name is Anna. White Cloud, our Assinboine, out-of-the-body friend, had told her she used to be a healer, and she always wore a little bag with her crystals and stones in it around her neck. So everyone called her Little Pocket. When White Cloud told her this, she reminded me that even as a five-year-old, she would spend most of her pocket money buying little chips of crystals and semi-precious stones. And she kept them in a little draw-string bag. She still has it!
