Cancer—
a word,
so many words,
once heard,
they resonate,
percolate,
like kernels bursting
in a fire too hot,
like gum balls shattering
against the teeth.
And still they circle,
but I stand steady.
They press in,
I press back.
Stronger, louder,
my heartbeat insists—
I am here,
I am more
than any word.
I had some music playing in the background while I worked on this blog, and suddenly this little ditty popped into my head. I am nothing if not honest: I can’t draw, paint, or even color inside the damn lines—and now we can officially add “songwriter” to the list of ways I will never make any money. If it sounds suspiciously like something you’ve heard before, just credit the fabulous Beatles. They’ve been renting space in my brain for five decades, and frankly, I am grateful for all the earworms!
When I get sick and losing my hair
Just a month from now
Will you still see me, want to be with me
Take me with you everywhere?
If I throw up and cry until three
Will you still want to be in bed and see.
Will you still see me, want to be with me
When nothing is easy like we?
When I'm so tired and the end I can't see
And we're too scared to know what to do
If you still see me, want to be with me
I'll keep on fighting to stay with you.
If you still me, want to be with me,
Our love grows stronger, the life we can weave.
I'll give you my heart, you'll always be mine,
Together, my love, till we're ninety-nine!
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Third Act With Pattie 