Your body's been poisoned and you just might die. "You have cancer" says the doctor, and you try not to cry. "Were gonna make a plan, and try to get you well" but what they can't stress enough is that the treatment is hell. It's really just a Goddamn catch 22! But I mean let's get real, what else are you gonna do? You don't wanna die, so you do what they say. Chemo every week, radiation everyday. Your mind goes into survival mode to get you through. Oh wait, did I mention? Yeah the catch 22. The radiation burns and the poison in your veins, all to make you well again sounds fucken insane. Did you know it takes 8 years for every cell to renew? And until then your energy level ranges from zero to fuck you. If you're lucky any damage won't last, but you can forget about getting back to life fast. The mind consumption and depression kick in, oh yeah catch 22, don't be surprised to lose friends. They think once treatments over you should be back to the old you and when you're not, they can't deal, and the friendship is through. But you're alive right?! I mean medically speaking, you're thinking and moving so you must be breathing. Catch 22 steps up again, you just fought for your life, now you want it to end. You have come too far though, you fought cancer and won! How can you do that and then reach for a gun? A year clear now from cancer and it's still a catch 22, but it keeps getting better, I fought too hard to be through.
© 2017, Teresa M. Parks. All rights reserved (fuck cancer, kick ass)
