To: "too many" -
Women with a dreaded diagnosis, the numbers are far
Too many. Suspected breast cancer they learn.
It’s like an epidemic my mom says - a hero, she’s the star
Survivor, the toughest of surgeries. Now it’s my turn
To take on my own fight against cancer.
The number of new patients in Doc's office was abnormal.
Too many large envelopes with mottled imagery.
Faces taut and determined to behave as if all’s normal.
Will surgery be recommended? Their heads swimming,
As mine did too. I join new patients, now on the schedule
With their own fights against cancer.
The bench in the room with the small round table held
Too many of the stuffed heart-shaped pillows.
Volunteer-stitched of comfy print, filling the space well.
For many surgeries’ sore under-arms, I’m willing
To take mine home, too. I join all the others who fell
Victim to cancer.
But I will not be its Victim. “No despair nor self pity;” I tell
It to many. And I’ll not stuff my fears, my feelings.
The “Breast Care Center
Into a safe place for my breast’s surgical healings.
I’m one of “us” now. I join all the women who celebrate
An early diagnosis of cancer!
By Carol Gee
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1 comment:
Carol, I am so sorry.
I had breast cancer 22 years ago. My mother had it before me, twice, but she died of something else, a bleeding stress ulcer several months after having a stroke, at the age of 84.
The cancer did not kill her, and it has not killed me yet. I am 72.
Your mother must have had the radical mastectomy. God bless her. But she's still here. You know there is hope.
I remember when I went for my first radiation treatment and looked around at the people in the waiting room. I thought, "My God. All these people have cancer!" And then, I thought, "I have cancer, too."
Before that awakening, people with cancer were very much "other". Now I was one of "them". What encouraged me was that a good many of the folks in the room looked pretty well. Only a few looked really sick.
Thanks for visiting my blog.
Your poem is beautiful. I will pray for you.
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