Writing about illness

[naamplao]

I submitted a poem in the "Poetry Discussion Circle" titled "Defiant" which described my feelings when I discovered that my appendix had a cancerous tumour hiding inside it causing the appendix to abscess.

I would like to start a thread about illness...any kind of illness either as the person who experienced the illness or as a person who has watched a loved one suffer through their pain.

I have always used poetry as a comfort when going through difficult times. You may find this poem a bit sing-song like but I make no apologizes for that. Writing this poem was the first step in coping with a serious illness for me. The poem starts out quite light but does not end that way...hope you enjoy the read and I hope you submit one of your own.

Serious Operation
by Naamplao

A twinge, a belly ache,
a fever that you just can’t shake.
Weeks go by and suffer through,
no longer seeming like the flu.

No sense is made of infirmity,
growing slowly, causing ennui.
Reaching a point, you must agree
and off you go to Emergency.

Poked and prodded, hemmed and hawed,
ultrasound, x-ray on a body flawed.
Two days later blood tests show,
bad appendix and something to go.

Composing mind for surgery ahead,
thinking of loved ones and thoughts left unsaid.
Wheeled to the room, mask put on,
One second alert, the next you are gone.

Awake in recovery, sprawled in your bed,
feeling quite groggy and sick in the head.
A motion to rise brings lances of pain,
from incision stapled like tracks of a train.

Nurses give care as you strive to get well,
most are like Nightingale, one seems from Hell.
Dignity striped to the very last shred,
mind becomes dulled as you plow on ahead.

Days pass by, improvements are shown,
each function an effort but this it is known.
To get well, you must try fighting through
the pain for goals, that you doggedly pursue.

The surgeon inspects the incision and states,
the appendix was abscessed with pus as mates.
But all was cleaned up and the prognosis is good;
you will be home in a few days, knocking on wood.

Day of discharge does finally arrive,
awake in the morning, feeling alive.
Surgeon makes entrance and says with sad sound,
the biopsy showed that a tumour was found...

 

[Maria2394]

...................

 

[sassynyc]

My mother is a cancer survivor. When she was ill, I accompanied her to her chemo treatments. A print of Monet's Waterlilies hung in one of the bathrooms at the clinic. It was the one good thing I could find to fixate on, in a place that otherwise, felt negative. That's the short story behind this poem.


http://archives.cnn.com/2000/STYLE/arts/05/09/art.auction/05.09.monet.waterlilies.jpg

Waterlilies

Four-sided escape, hanging
on a bathroom wall
I disappear inside this frame
and forget where “here” is
for a little while

If I stare long enough
the pond ripples
carrying the scent
of death downstream

Afforded illusion, peering
through a curtain of tears

I watch the word
O n c o l o g y
fade, until it dissolves
in murky depths
and means no more
than the word “goldfish”
in my mind’s glossary

I redefine recovery
with my mother’s name

Peeled from
sanctuary in a frame
I wear the plaster
of a Lucite smile
to hold her hand

 

[naamplao]

Peeled from
sanctuary in a frame
I wear the plaster
of a Lucite smile
to hold her hand

This verse really hit me hard. I was lucky and did not have to do chemo or radiation but I had to endure many visits to see an oncologist in a cancer clinic to go over test results every 3 months for 2 years after my surgery. Everyone in the waiting room had those "lucite" smiles staring at the wall or reading books. Everyone looked so normal but you knew why they were there.

Towards the end when it became clear that I beat the cancer, I felt terrible. I sort of felt I was cheating them because I really did not undergo any difficulty other than the surgery and a brief scare a year later of a reoccurrence. I had no misery of radiation or chemo; I had no misery of following the progress of a tumour within me.

I watched those "lucite" smiles as partners patted their loved ones as their names were called for their session with the oncologist.

Nice write.

 

[sassynyc]

This verse really hit me hard. I was lucky and did not have to do chemo or radiation but I had to endure many visits to see an oncologist in a cancer clinic to go over test results every 3 months for 2 years after my surgery. Everyone in the waiting room had those "lucite" smiles staring at the wall or reading books. Everyone looked so normal but you knew why they were there.

Towards the end when it became clear that I beat the cancer, I felt terrible. I sort of felt I was cheating them because I really did not undergo any difficulty other than the surgery and a brief scare a year later of a reoccurrence. I had no misery of radiation or chemo; I had no misery of following the progress of a tumour within me.I watched those "lucite" smiles as partners patted their loved ones as their names were called for their session with the oncologist.

Nice write.

I suppose what you felt is akin to soldiers coming home from war, and feeling guilt for surviving. You were fortunate in a lot of ways. But I'm glad you didn't have to go through what many cancer patients do. It can put things in perspective, from a 'count my blessings' stand point, but at the same time, someone else's suffering doesn't discount your own. I'm sure, what you didn't suffer physically, was leveled by the mental toll of it all. 'The worst' for each person is always different. One man's heart attack is another man's paper cut. But a paper cut still bleeds. (and hurts like a son of a bitch, for something that appears so unassuming). Everyone has their 'cross to bear'. I'm glad yours didn't break you.

 

[champagne1982]

I don't know how many of you know that I've had 2 open heart surgeries in the past 8 years ... I have and when I was experiencing mild symptoms of valve disease within 5 years of the first surgery I wrote this. Not really anticipating another valve replacement but aware something wasn't right.

On Waking Up Before Dawn

I wish that I will never return
to that place where night wraps tight
her sheets and tucks me in beneath
a star bright canopy nor watch the milky way
spill across the sky then disappear
when I close my eyes.

What's there beneath the horizon
and beyond? My Love, whisper now
and promise me there is more,
more than darkness over the edge,
more than the centre of the night,
more than cold, dark sleep.

I fear the loneliness that lies close
on the other side. I have been and back
and knew only dreamless rest;
there is no comfort in this. Wake me
into your morning, so that I may see
the day and know the warmth of you.

 

[naamplao]

I don't know how many of you know that I've had 2 open heart surgeries in the past 8 years ... I have and when I was experiencing mild symptoms of valve disease within 5 years of the first surgery I wrote this. Not really anticipating another valve replacement but aware something wasn't right.

Wow...so powerful. I never had those feelings. I had to read this twice before I think I understand your emotions. I had three major surgeries in an 18 month period which included the cancer one. But somehow I avoided the fear of loneliness prior to surgery in each case. I am not religious but I do believe in the spirit and I believe the spirit of my grandmother watches over me and that I suppose was my comfort each time.

You gave me a lot to think about...I enjoyed the read.