Today I am pleased to post some more poems by Margery Hauser. Once again in her own words:
In 1999 I was diagnosed with cervical cancer and had surgery that, at the time, we all thought had taken care of the problem. However, it came back for a return engagement in 2008 and again in 2010, now taking up residence in lymph nodes and moving its way up from my pelvis into my abdomen. The poems below were written in response to various experiences during diagnosis and treatment.
Today’s poems are quite different from each other.
The first, Chemo Blues, is “definitely irreverent, but it reflects my personal feeling that finding the humor in a difficult situation is a way to maintain some balance”
“How do I tell you is really an expression of anger and frustration in reaction to all the people who told me how much they admired my strength and positive attitude. Their words, undoubtedly spoken with the best of intentions, made it difficult for me to share my fear and sadness honestly.”
Until next time…
Oh the first line of the blues is always sung a second time (oh yeah?)
First line of the blues is always sung a second time (kinda smooth!)
So by the time you get to the third line you’ve had time to think up a rhyme.
Richard Stilgoe, Poppa’s Blues, Starlight Express
I’ve got those paclitaxel topotecan chemo blues.
Oh yes, those paclitaxel topotecan chemo blues.
It’s made my thumbs a little numb, my toes are tingling in my shoes.
Treatment’s made me bald, ain’t got no eyebrows or eyelashes.
Yeah, treatment’s made me bald, ain’t got no eyebrows or eyelashes.
The upside is it’s cold and chemo gives me cozy, warm hot flashes.
My legs ache from the taxol and the topo makes my white cells disappear.
Oh, my legs ache from the taxol and the topo makes my white cells disappear.
On the other hand I haven’t had to shave my legs in almost half a year.
These drugs make me so tired, I just want to sit here staring at TV.
I said, these drugs make me so tired, I just want to sit here staring at TV.
It’s the best excuse for doing absolutely nothing, lazy as can be.
Some folks say it’s bad taste to joke when cancer’s got you by the nodes.
I hear some folks say it’s bad taste to joke when cancer’s got you by the nodes.
But I think all of us on this journey find our own kinds of roads.
How do I tell you
it’s hard to walk upright
with the weight of your admiration
pressing on my shoulders
too difficult to breathe
swaddled in your blanket of love
impossible to swim
through your riptide of caring
Your heartstrings tentacle tight
around me I am confined
constrained contained restrained
I dream Pinocchio dreams
of being real