Monday, February 19, 2018

Survivor




Carefully placed 
under tissue paper I found 
nestled between
colorful cottony socks 
in a pouch of shimmering silver, 
were three golden ribbons 
like crossed fingers of hope, 
a pair of earrings 
and a small charm--
that medal of honor
tiny beading attached 
linked one after the other. 
One word repetitiously 
encircling the third, 
survivor, survivor, survivor, survivor 
it read. 
Meant to bring joy
by the sender to me-- 
an early stage cancer patient 
treatment now ended 
deemed cancer free. 
Do I tell her I’m not 
nor never will be 
the survivor she is 
with cancer behind her
instead of in front? 
How once I too thought 
when the treatments were done 
I was a survivor 
and would gladly have worn 
that delicate necklace 
of silver and gold 
with that word and the hearts 
the meaning so true, 
at the time. 
Or do I say thank you 
and nothing more, 
letting her think
survivor, 
a word we both share? 
With cancer behind, inside and ahead, 
my eightieth infusion 
just hours away, 
survivor, survivor, survivor, survivor, 
with the four little hearts 
that golden ribbon of hope 
will remain tucked inside 
that silvery pouch 
my silent reminder 
a word I can’t wear. 
Survivor I want to be; 
survivor I hope to be. 
Survivor,
survivor?
It's not supposed to be me. 

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Quick Update


Yep, it's true. My January 29th scan was beautiful! Still having trouble believing it.

Next scan will be 6 months from now--simply wonderful.