A Good Cry

Took myself outside;
Had me a good cry.
Flowers bloom.
Dead leaves fall.
Tapestries are woven.
Paintings stand undone.
Lovers embrace.
Minions feel alone.
Nurturing hands bake.
Empty bellies swell.
Promising thresholds are crossed.
Irrevocable ends are chosen.
Songs arise.
Stories remain untold.
Children's lips touch weathered faces.
Wheelchairs line institution halls.
Joy takes seed.
Anguish unfolds.
Laughter effervesces.
Broken hearts wail.
Had me a good cry;
Then wiped my freshly watered eyes.

~ by Lung Cancer Widow (Anonymous)

The Shoe Time

I fell in love with him many times over the years we spent together. Sometimes the "falling" was intense and overwhelming; other times it was gentle and tender. But the most poignant time was what I call "the shoe time."

He was sitting on the edge of the bed. His belly was swollen with the cancer that had slowly been taking him away from me for the past 14 months. We were getting ready to go see the oncologist. We were out of options; the chime from the clock in our bedroom was growing more invasive with each passing hour. We needed to leave the house or we were going to be late, and yet, he was just sitting there. He was facing away from me, so I came around the bed. There was a new anguish in his eyes, but it wasn't physical anguish - that much I knew.

"What's wrong?" I asked quietly.

He could not speak but merely shifted his eyes toward his shoes - and all at once, I understood. I kneeled down, picked up his foot, put it in his shoe, and tied the lace. I looked up at his face, the mix of sadness and acceptance, love and pain. He nodded and smiled, mostly with his eyes. Then he moved his other foot toward my hand. I fell in love with him all over again tying that second shoe.

That day was a very special one in my life. It was both the best and the last time I would have the opportunity to fall in love with him before cancer forced us to say our earthly goodbyes.

~ by T. M. St. John

The Wait

It’s Friday, the day of the test.
Tonight I won’t get any rest.
I’ll lie there all night and think
It’s enough to drive me to drink.

It’s Monday, the doctor should call.
What’s the reason for the stall?
I have a pretty good hunch,
He’s probably out to lunch.

And now it’s close to three;
This wait is killing me.
I’d even bet a horse
That’s he’s out on that golf course.

At four the phone is ringing;
What news can it be bringing?
I’m filled with such anxiety
But learn that it’s the wrong party.

At five the doctor calls.
I’ve been climbing up the walls.
At last the answer comes;
Lie down and take 2 Tums.

By Ruth Mushock

The Diagnosis

Since my first diagnosis
I’ve developed a psychosis.
My days are filled with doctor visits,
Blood tests and statistics.

Life for me has changed
And my priorities rearranged.
I even said a prayer
That I wouldn’t lose my hair.

One thing I really hate
Is after the tests – the wait.

My cup may be filled only half
But I won’t forget to laugh.
I say my daily prayers
And I know He really cares.

My future, of course, I can’t see
But I’m a brave and stronger me.

By Ruth Mushock

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