Thursday, July 13, 2023

It's Pain O'clock; Do You Know Where Your Tumours Are?






Good morning, it is pain o'clock,
do you know where your tumours are?
Ones that fester, ones that rock
and beg a Cheech and Chong cigar?
They're in each arm and in my neck,
in both legs and abdomen,
underneath each mighty pec
(or were mighty way back when).
They give me grief during the day,
but when the night is still and quiet
is the time they like to play
in a game becoming riot,
but that's OK, I live the dream,
and Barb will come out when I scream.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is WORK, which I really try to avoid.

Cancer's sure a lot of work,
like digging ditches in the cold,
but it has an awesome perk,
namely, that I won't grow old
and have the honoured hoary head,
grandkids sitting on my knee.
Yeah, it's better to be dead,
than, by far, to come to be
an elder and wise ancient sage,
a pillar of the street and village,
'cause I'm stuck upon the page
that is marked, 'Let's loot and pillage!',
which example, I will bet,
ain't fittin' for the younger set.

Three minutes flat. That might not be good.

I was really reluctant to post this; not because it's exaggerated (it's not), but because it verges on Poor Poor Pitiful Me.

And that's not the case at all. Yes, I've lost a ton of ground in the past few weeks, yes, I spend a lot of time bent double, just trying to get to the next moment, and yes, there are screams in the night (a perfect horseshoe of pain, from the pancreas into the neck and thence to the right humerus.

I don't do medicinal cannabis, nor painkillers of any type, for various reasons. It's not a path I would necessarily recommend, but it works for me.

But life is still good, and I am blessed beyond measure by Barbara, the dogs (and the cat), by sunrises and rainbows and shooting stars.

And I am blessed by YOU, my dear, dear readers. Your presence, and your comments, these keep me going.

You give me purpose, and I will tell God about you.

Do please take the sonnets above as reality's chiaroscuro, the shadow that defines the Light.

Music from Bobby Sherman, with Easy Come, Easy Go

As long as there's ice cream, Sylvia's cool with things. Me, too. Except that Edy's discontinued French Silk!


 

28 comments:

  1. Your writing is an absolute delight, and your title for today is perfection. I also remember a commercial to the tune of "have you hugged your kids today?" I have not, in fact, hugged my cancer today, but will now. It's a hell of a teacher and odd companion. I love your humor and the way you tell your story so honestly. I hope you find some restful nights, and also that your day holds a little good chaos and wonder.

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    1. Lucien, your comment means so much to me.

      Cancer is indeed a hell of a teacher, an odd companion...and, really, a kind of friend. I'm not the self-absorbed pagan I once was, and I would never be that again, not even for a restoration of health. Cancer did that, and showed me the way to a durable kind of joy.

      It's going to be a good chaotic day; five am, and the dogs are stirring!

      Y'all take care, too. I'll see you on up the blue.

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  2. Always a pleasure to stop by your blog as one of the first or THE first each week. It has been awhile since i have written in the FMF space. I'm SO glad to see you still here alive and as well in spirit as you can be! Love to you. I am praying for a friend's husband who is dying of cancer every day at 1:50 p.m. per her Facebook request about six months ago. I will add you to my hurried by consistent prayer at 1:50 p.m. daily EST. I will "see you soon!" Jennifer, 3

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    1. Jennifer, thank you! I'm glad to still be here myself, having outlived my doctor (which sounds almost funny, but ain't).

      I will sure appreciate the prayers. Every day I just ask God to get me through the next task, even when it's just trying to eat.

      God bless you, friend.

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  3. I had breast cancer twice. I had a double mastectomy. I had radiation. I had chemotherapy. All if my hair fell out. I was sick as a dog. I had the most agonizing stomach cramps from constipation. At times I lost all bowel control and made a huge mess. Cancer is a terrible thing. My mother died of cancer when I was 22. My best friend’s husband was just diagnosed with lung cancer. They do not know yet if it has spread to his brain. Without chemo they give him 2-4 weeks. With the nightmare of chemo he may have 12-18 months left. Cancer strikes randomly: rich, poor, middle class, black, white, latino, young and old. You are not alone. There are others who are suffering with cancer. I hate that you are suffering and in pain but I love that you still remain grateful for your great wife and your dog. You are an inspiration to others who are suffering. You are using your God given talent to encourage others. Keep writing Andrew. Writing is your job and you do it so well. đŸ’—Terri #4 FMF

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    1. Terri, thank you for this, and please accept my apologies for the delayed response. God tried to call me home this week. I didn't go.

      Cancer is, to me, a mystery, something I would never have wanted, but it's changed me into someone I could never have become otherwise, and I would not go back.

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  4. Andrew, one thing you never come across as is self-pitying. I appreciate your honesty in sharing, and I am always amazed at how positive you remain despite the suffering you face. I'm sorry it has been such a hard week. Praying for you today.

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    1. Lesley, thank you for this affirmation; remaining positive does, interestingly, get easier with practice, and with the firm banishment of negative waves.

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  5. I appreciate your candor--telling the truth about how you are feeling. You write even though you're going through such a difficult thing. Your faithfulness inspires me to get over whatever little thing I'm facing right now and just get back to writing. You and Barbara are on my heart and in my prayers today.

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    1. Cindie, thank you for this...and please know that pain and difficulties are individual, not to be measured or compared. Mine are familiar to me; faced with yours, I may well find them insurmountable.

      Thank you so much for your prayers; you are in ours.

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  6. Andrew, I have never thought of you as having self-pity. Your transparency has been a blessing to us all who stop by here to read your words. I'm so grateful to see you again in the very first spot :) May the Lord continue to be with you and Barbara!

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    1. Joanne, thank you so much. I will be here, and honoured to be here, as He wills.

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  7. I would never describe you as self-pitying! You are honest and real about the pain and struggles, which helps us pray more spefically and urgently for you. I'm sorry that you have been keeping time by the waves of pain this week. Praying for relief and comfort as you face each moment.

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    1. Kym, thank you. Sometimes I think that God keeps me going to witness from here, witness to His love even in the abyss.

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  8. You have an amazing attitude that is truly inspiring.
    May the Lord continue to give you strength for each day and little blessings that bring you joy until He decides to take you home.

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    1. Grams, thank you so much for the affirmation, and the lovely prayer.

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  9. Sickness does show us the way to durable joy, Andrew. I pray you will continue to know the Lord's loving Presence with you - even in the shadow of death...even in bodily pain. May the Lord continue to give you and Barb grace as you walk this journey, and may He grant you beautiful moments (like the rainbow!) that make you smile, laugh, or share a loving moment together. Praying for you both.

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    1. This comment has been removed by the author.

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    2. Sorry, Lisa... I managed to put a reply to another comment here.

      Thank you so much for your lovely, true words. God does indeed stay close as the days darken, and I am grateful for this... enough so that I would not tradeHis immanence for a restoration of health.

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  10. Andrew, you and Barb continue to be in my prayers. I hear reality and heart in your words. Not self-pity. :) Thank you for showing up, for encouraging through your transparency, and for speaking truth. I'm most grateful for you, friend.

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    1. Jeanne, we're do very grateful for YOU.

      I'll be here for as long as I can.

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    2. So very grateful, not 'do'. Gosh!

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  11. with you in the good moments ... and the lousy ones, too.

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    1. Linda, thank you so much. Friends like you make the worst moments golden.

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  12. I appreciate your honesty and willingness to share your painful journey. And I’m so so sorry you have to endure it. Keep writing as long as you can

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    1. Thank you for this; I will keep going, for as long as I am able.

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  13. Andrew, you really do inspire me and all of us on this FMF group - with your quick-witted sonnets and your indomitable spirit! Blessings to you and the work you do carrying your cross and sharing Truth with your neighbours and loved ones. Dawn #27

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    1. Dawn, I am grateful beyond words for this affirmation...it came at exactly the right moment, on a very hard day.

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