The Gift of Cancer

Poetic Insights

Issue #15

The Only Chance

I reach inside
my coat to find
a small piece of gum
I chew slowly,
anticipating the moment
when my physical body
dissolves and I materialize
in another dimension
where disease no longer
exists, and I have
the opportunity to live
a long, happy life without
suffering and pain.
Sometimes we must cling
to hope even in the darkest
hours of our lives.
Sometimes our fantasies
are the only chance
we have of finding
our way through the forest.

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Notes

At 2:45 pm on June 16, 2006, my doctor told me that I had prostate cancer. I was 57 years old. These poems were written after that diagnosis. The Only Chance was written six days after I received the diagnosis. I was in York, PA, conducting training workshops.

In the poem, I imagine escaping to another world where I do not have cancer. The fantasy of another dimension gave me hope in the face of possible death.

When I told people whom I worked with that I had cancer, they often said that if you have cancer, prostate cancer is the one to have. So my wife and I dubbed it the good cancer.

I have now been cancer-free for nineteen years, so maybe I am living in another dimension.

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Saving The World From Ourselves

We stand listening
to the rock and roll band,
swaying to the beat
of the drummer, like hundreds
of former hippies who
are now bald and fat,
remembering moments from
our youth, when we thought
we would live forever,
and prostate cancer did
not cross our wild minds.
But God has had the last
laugh on us. We are not
invincible. Death will one day
visit our doorsteps and 
wrest our souls from our
frail bodies. We thought
we could save the world
and end war and racism, but
we cannot save our aging bodies.

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Notes

When I was young, I spent very little time thinking about cancer or death. It happened to others but not to me. I was part of the generation with the slogan: “Don’t trust anyone over 30.”

I was in Naperville, IL, on a business trip, and my wife and I had the opportunity to attend a Fourth of July celebration. There was a band playing music from the Sixties, and most of the audience were from that time period.

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Conversation Over Coffee

God and I were having
a conversation over coffee
one morning about the nature
of the universe when she
stormed in and plumped
herself down on a kitchen chair.
I asked if she would like
a cup of coffee and she
nodded her graying head
in the affirmative. I smiled
and served her a cup. God
asked what was bothering her
on this gorgeous morning
and she gave Him one of those
looks that will kill. "Why does
everyone I know have to die
from cancer?" she demanded.
"Can you answer me that?" God
looked deep into her brown eyes
and began to cry uncontrollably.

---

Notes

My wife has experienced more deaths in her family from cancer than I have. Her mother died at 37 from breast cancer. My wife was only 4. She had a younger sister who died at the age of 40 from cancer. Another sister had breast cancer twice. She was probably more scared about my diagnosis than I was. She often says that the cancer is as hard on the family as the patient.

I did not feel that I was going to die. People in my family died from heart disease, not cancer. And I know that if my wife had a chance, she would challenge God on why people had to die from cancer.

---

Office Visit

God came by
the office yesterday
for a short conversation
and a simple request.
He seemed concerned
about my attitude
toward the cancer
growing inside my body
and wanted to reassure
me that it was a gift
He had given me
to help me understand
my role in the scheme
of things. I laughed at
His frankness and told
Him that with friends
like Him, I did not
need enemies. He appeared
to be offended and left
abruptly without saying goodbye.

---

Notes

These seven poems are each twenty lines long. In 2003 or 2004, I began to write poems with 20 lines because many of the magazines that published poetry did not want anything longer than 20 lines. I have since written thousands of these poems.

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Anticipation

God patiently
held my hand
the other night
while I wept.
He told me not
to fear the pain
I will experience,
and instead to 
enjoy it as a gift
that will open up
new worlds and
opportunities, to be
thankful for the people
who will come into
my life, and to find
hope in a future
where I will be
a different person.
I clung to Him
and would not let go.

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Notes

I came to believe that the cancer was a gift, and I wrote several poems about the gifts I received. I remember a young nursing student helped me take a shower. Later, her instructor told me that something I had said inspired the girl. She told me that the student had cancer and was going in for treatment the next day.

On my third day in the hospital, I had a grumpy nurse. I complimented her on a ring she was wearing, and her attitude changed. She said that the ring was a gift from her husband, who had recently passed away. We never know what is on the hearts of the people we meet. Meeting them and touching their lives is a gift.

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Surgery

God is in the backyard
playing with the squirrels
and rabbits. I am barbecuing
steaks for dinner, and
the wife is preparing the salad.
Tomorrow, I am having surgery
and God has come to
wish me well. He says
I should not worry because
He will be there holding
my hand. I smile and ask
if he wants to take 
my place in the operating
room. He ignores my 
request and goes on
chatting about how much
better I will feel when
the cancer has been removed
from my body. I flip the steaks 
over one more time.

---

Notes

This poem was written the night before the surgery. The barbecue was a fantasy.

We had to be at the hospital about 5 A.M. My wife said that when they were wheeling me to the operating room, I was asking everyone for a hug.

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Don’t Forget To Tip

A bag lady
dropped by
the house
to drop off
some bags.
I asked her
why she
thought that
we needed
bags. She
laughed and
said everyone
has a need
for bags to
store the gifts
that they receive
from God.
I thanked her
for her kindness
and gave her a tip.

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Notes

One of the side effects of having prostate surgery is bladder incontinence and the need to wear Depends. One day, my wife came home from the grocery store with many plastic bags used to carry groceries. When I asked her why, she said I needed something to put my Depends in when I finished wearing them. I called her the bag lady, and we had a big laugh. In response to that incident, I crafted this humorous poem.

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