"lymphoma" poems
Lymphoma
There was a fundraising run for lymphoma and other cancers
A little notice for it on top of the garbage can
at a home grown Jamba Juice right off the BART in Berkeley
It hit home: what I was up against
People don't run through the streets casually
and my cat had lymphoma
I couldn't find him last night for the first time
He had his weekly appointment and I brought in
something that didn't look at all like he was the week before
They paged the vet and she came in
saying thing like he needed an IV and tests and
wasn't there nothing else to do
didn't she say that
he needs hospitalization--his liver
we can't tell you what to do
but it would all go in a circle and come back
to a suffering being who had
come to the end of what science could do for him
what she was trying to tell me in her barrage of words
came through loud and clear
They brought him in
with a blanket and a catheter
and he struggled until he got warm and then rested
I wanted him to see me, as the last thing he saw in this world
She took the three syringes out of her white coat
Don't hurt him, just don't hurt him
my only request
There was no pain
Only relaxation, sleep and then at last no heartbeat
Her ability, her smoothness of execution was perfect
and he went limp in my arms
not suffering
The nurse took his body away
"It's the last gift we can give them" she said
and I imagined a man, a stereotypical
image of a man pacing back and forth in a white coat in front
of a lecture hall full of vet students saying that
exact thing and there was a serious air in the classroom and some wrote this down,
it was so true, sound, capable and final
but this woman said it
this veterinarian from Michigan
and through my tears and grief
there was some kind of undercurrent
of relief, that there is no more pain for him
He no longer suffers
and I did all I could do
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 8:39 PM UTC
I'm just getting in the bath,
Someone else wrote the letter,
I don't want to make a. Mess.
Draw me the water
I point at the tap
Burden no family
Hold my head under icecaps.
Merkel Cells, diluted sensation,
The end of fingertips cant feel your
Flesh.
Shriveling in the cold,
Shivering to stop freezing,
But I cant. What am I doing?
Can I want this now, errectores pilorum erected.
Have I set motion to,
Cogs in a watch I cant adjust.
my lungs mark absolute zero
this is me sitting in chemistry class
english
10th grade
asking sam to suffocate with me
every alvioli is pinned by ****** as thick as knitting needles
my chest is permafrost
my sternum, antarctica
the ribs hollow out
capillary beds lose all the haem
out of their erythrocytes
I'm losing St. Elmo's Fire.
The baths still panting out,
Water roars, gushing spout.
Proud the current sweeps me through,
The porcelain lining this white hell bathroom.
It's bone cannot hide from my blood,
As if I'm isotope 226 of Radium.
Heat seeking marrow.
My serum is Hodgkins Lymphoma,
Tearing through sheeting tile,
Like a young cancer child,
Afflicted,
Leukemia,
No chance,
No good blood left,
To let.
Soon, it will all be gone, and the rivers that
freeze in my arms, and the ribs that are icicles
form, and the atrial canal is not like Venice,
it is the Rhine in winter, the Volga during
the solstice.
Spring will never come again.
Spring slipped its head into the bath water, like my own.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
In a second my life changed like i could never imagine
The world was all Topsy turvy
and i a floating object in the turmoil
A simple six letter word
Thats all it took to take my stable world away
Upon that fateful day I was 15 and the date was May 12 2008
My diagnosis Hodgkin's lymphoma stage 2 B
My freedom was stolen from me
School i could no longer attend
People i could no longer see
The world was shut away from me
Chemo and Radiation were my companions
Aiding me in my time of need
But the truth in that was they were killing me more than saving
Strong of heart was I
I would not be taken down
I tried to show no fear or sorrow
And now am thought a strong young lady by many others
The most glorious day was when the cancer went away
September 28 2008 i was told
After I regained the freedom i had lost
four months later did my true story unfold
January 12 2009 I knew something was wrong
I was right I had not yet won the fight
Hodgkin's lymphoma was back to greet me
This time worse stage 4 B had me captured
A junior in high school i had been
But now once again I could no longer attend
Chemo my friend, we were reunited
I guess it missed me
This time a new component was introduced
Bone-marrow transplant, Auto stem cell
After tackling these feats I met radiation again
September 2009 i was said to be free
it was like history repeating itself
But this time i was wary
now it is July 4 2010
I am heathy, I have graduated
but the damage my six lettered fiend has reaped upon me is still here
An immune system i no longer have
My life still on pause
But i do not care
Because i know what its like to have your life dissipate without warning
Life is like a flame it can be snuffed out in a second
So remember my words
Please
Dont let any regret into your life
Dont pass a single moment by
Live love and try
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 2:50 PM UTC
I'll never forget the feeling of my baby brother's fingertips,
How thankful I was to feel his flesh and not empty space.
Hydronephrosis wasn't a word they told me to study for my 5th grade spelling bee,
but it somehow because my most frequently used word for the first month of his life.
Along with guardian ad litem, child support, separation
because Daddy hit Mommy, and Daddy hit Maddie.
Supervised visitation.
Daddy hasn't seen him in six years but Maddie saw Daddy just the other day and had panic attacks instead of sleeping.
Every time I see a trait in my baby brother than reminds me of his dad I love on him a little more
So he doesn't give a sixth grader PTSD one day.
Hydronephrosis is child's play when they start talking about leukemia,
Or lymphoma,
Or osteosarcoma,
Or whatever the **** it is because they still don't know what's wrong
with my 7 year old piece of heaven,
my proof that pure, unadulterated innocence still exists.
I missed two weeks of school
to make sure his dimples always showed
And to make sure Mommy didn't fall apart
I was supposed to be her rock
But my own tears wore me down.
I eroded.
Like grains of sand slipping through fingers, I watched him slip away.
He almost died in my arms.
I missed two weeks of school
And still miss days when he goes to the doctor
I'm waiting by the phone for when a check up turns into a diagnosis
Praying to a god I'm not even sure exists anymore
To keep me alive
By keeping him alive.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
I used to long for death.
Now I'm pleading it to stop.
Never appreciated life.
Now I can't get enough.
No forever is never promised.
It can never be set in stone.
Lately my body has been deteriorating.
The only way to vent is here.
You see I have two lumps in my neck.
Nobody knows what it is yet.
Could be nothing could be something.
It varies from thyroid... lympth nodes swelling... all the way down to lymphoma, aka cancer.
They tell me not to worry.
It's best to prepare yourself for worse.
What if I am dying.
Atleast I'll be ready when my time comes.
After all we are all dying.
Life is inevitable.
Life is unovoidable.
But death is inevitable as well.
There is no going around it.
You and I.
One day we are both going to die.
Maybe tomorrow maybe 13 years from now.
Life is not promised.
I remember last night.
I told her I could potentially be dying.
I told her not to worry.
I told her it probably isn't anything bad.
She tried to fight the tears then the began to flow.
Steady like a stream.
She was breaking because of me.
I told her I need you to be strong.
She said if I died she wouldn't go on.
She said you are the one I wanted all along.
What if this sky wizard called god is out to ruin us.
I asked why he would do that.
She just replied don't go cursing Sky wizards.
If there's a god I couldn't imagine him doing a thing.
Killing a girl at 16.
Taking my life when I've only just begun.
I used to beg for my end.
Little did I know I had only just begun.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
This
Anxiety is like boiling snakes in my stomach
Milky frothing water and peeling
(my)
Skin
(off speckled moles, preventative measure)
(I do not have cancer)
(At least not skin)
I'm blindly probing my skin for
(not lymphoma, no)
Any semblance of
(not breast cancer, no)
Caring
Is not for me
(I care too much)
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC
My friend has stage four Hodgkin’s Lymphoma
and is barely three decades old.
He is part of my generation.
He updates everybody about his cancer
on Facebook.
He posts pictures on his blog
of the sterile beige plastic machines
that take pictures of him
and scorch his insides with radiation
and burn all but the strongest of his cells
with chemotherapy.
I haven’t actually heard his voice in eight years
but it was just nine years ago
that he and I both sat in a booth in a ***** Greek restaurant
in Downers Grove, Illinois, just off of Ogden Avenue,
and smoked cigarette after cigarette
and talked about god knows what—
stupid **** probably. Shit that only young, invincible people
would concern themselves with.
The truth is, I don’t know what we’d talk about if I saw him today.
Maybe we’d talk about how he is dying of cancer
and I am not, in spite of the fact
that I have smoked more than he has,
exercised less than he has,
eaten worse than he has,
and made all the wrong decisions,
while he’s made all the right ones.
We could talk about the cruel irony
or the cold indifference of life
or how plans never go according to plan,
but my guess is that he wouldn’t care.
He is in another place. A focused place:
He is in the bottom of the ninth inning with two outs,
and is one run behind the opposition.
The treatments haven’t worked yet, but he knows the stakes of giving up.
“I am Kirk Gibson,” he writes to everybody online.
“I am Kirk Gibson.”
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
No more to live in earthly mould,
Though siblings not bereft ?
Despair in me did clasp it's hold,
My spirit long since left.
No funeral pyre, no gaping clay,
Not one sad mourning tear,
No blood red rose, nor white bouquet,
Was flung upon my bier.
For me, no sudden tragic end,
But slowly perished inside,
A veil of sorrow to descend,
When close-blood kinfolk died.
Lymphoma slowly sapped my life,
Such ills did I abhor,
Then as lost love increased the strife,
I decayed a little more.
No one aware that I've passed on,
Appearing to all just fine,
I smile and laugh, 'til yarns are spun,
And die more every time.
Finally reduced to hollow shell,
This world, my mind it warps,
I wander in this lifeless hell,
An aimless moping corpse.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
Cancer.
A word no one wants to hear.
Unless, of course you are talking about the astrological sign where it is said for you to be known for your loyalty, caring, and adapting qualities.
Cancer.
A word I never wanted to hear.
It was August.
My father and I had grown apart, once again.
We could never agree on anything, it didn’t matter what it was.
Gay rights, politics, the existence of God, these were only some of the topics we argued about, constantly.
I remember saying things like, “I hate you!” and “I wish you were out of my life forever.”
“I hope you die.”
I hope you die.
Four simple words. Horrible words.
Words I only said once out of anger.
Add never between you and die and you completely change the meaning.
Later on, I would wish that I had added the never.
I was listening to the song “I’m Gonna Love You Through It” at full volume trying to block out my mother and fathers fight.
Only now do I see the irony.
My parents left the room.
I listened as hard as I possibly could only to make out the words, Malignant Lymphoma.
My world would completely change that August.
They say that when someone is diagnosed with cancer, everyone around them is as well. I never understood that, it wasn’t me that was dying, until I saw him come home from his first cancer treatment.
He was exhausted, my father, the man of steel could barely stand.
My life became morphed into the what ifs. What if he doesn’t make it? What if I lose my dad?
My life became mutated into a twisted picture as I tried to find every answer in text books and statistics.
18,990 people die from this cancer every year.
My dad always joked he would never make it to see 51…he was 49.
My mom broke down, often, gasping in air as if she would never breathe in again.
As if, she had forgotten how.
I stopped breathing. I had no estimation or approximation of when I would breathe in again.
Malignant Lymphoma. Cancer. Dying.
Those three words were all that I could think about.
I wanted to escape. I wanted to pretend like I was clueless. They say that ignorance is bliss.
I think that was about the time I stopped believing in God.
That night, as I tried to bring myself to pray, the words got stuck in my throat.
I couldn’t understand why.
Soon, treatment began, was unsuccessful, and now the cancer is spreading. .
That’s the thing about lymphoma.
It doesn’t go away.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
His eyes stare at me, dull.
His smile is gone, no longer there.
His stomach is empty, not full.
His attitude sends a chill through the air.
He speaks to no one, he stays quiet.
Everything he sees produces a chafe.
His fists are always clenched, ready to fight.
He hides where it's safe, except it's not safe.
He slices his skin open.
He believes he's broken.
He hates his life,
So he tries to end it with a knife.
In the hospital he lays,
He's in a coma.
He won't wake up for days,
Maybe never due to severe lymphoma.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC