Here a few short chemo poems. So many cancer poems are on the grim side, so I thought I’d send out some on the lighter side of cancer.
A Few Thoughts At 2AM While High on Steroids
The sacred and the profane
When I go to church I think of sex.
Making love, I cry out to God.
I hope He has a sense of humor.
A few good things about having cancer:
I’ve stopped worrying if I’ll have enough money for my old age
I no longer worry about losing my mind to Alzheimer’s
I have an excuse for afternoon naps
I go in the hospital and lose 20 pounds. Later,
when my appetite comes back, I can eat like a horse without any guilt.
The difference between being young and being old
At 25 I’d think nothing of hitchhiking halfway across the country with just a toothbrush and bedroll.
At 62 it takes half a day to pack for a trip across the state and the car is full.
The drugs do strange things to your brain,
make you fuzzy, foggy and plain.
You might find yourself
brushing your teeth
with the toothbrush reserved
for the dog.
Before the chemo drugs
kicked in, I complained
that the portions
from the hospital’s food service
were too small.
Now, after 30 hours
on the IV drip,
I wonder why,
when I order so little,
they send so much.
After 96 straight hours of chemo
soon I’ll be nothing
but a pile of bones
in jeans and a jersey,
a few bits of leathery skin and noxious gases.
One morning a week
I take dexamethasone,
a steroid that keeps me flying
high all day, a roaring lion.
Wide awake at 2 AM
I mop the floors.
I’m an optimist.
Things are never so bad
that they can’t get worse.
So stop complaining
and enjoy the moment.