Geometry in Glass:
I waited a lifetime for you
but I guess it wasn’t long enough
I think of the babies I’ve lost
and wonder if you were one of them
I’m missing the baby girl
I always thought I’d have
Saw two pink lines last year
My heart soared but my stomach twisted
The hormones that sustain pregnancy
give cancer cells fuel, too
I didn’t care
I wanted you
Even if it meant more sickness for me
“I guess it’s one last chance,” she said.
“Stupid move,” he said.
But I was never meant to hold you in my arms.
Was it the Tamoxifen? Was it my lack of health? Was it the weekly Herceptin infusions? or the steroids? or the other meds they prescribed? Or was it just a cruel twist of fate?
As quickly as it began, it was over — and you were gone
Then they found the masses in my pelvis
and the surgeries took my hope of ever seeing you away
and reminded me that I am Cancer’s bitch
I’ve forgotten where I first heard a young person describe someone else as their bitch, but I’ve heard the reference a few times — and I never thought I’d use it. But it seems fitting here. I sometimes feel that despite my efforts and success with being positive and despite the hell I’ve put my body through, cancer often finds a way to remind me that “it” isn’t really up to me. And I know this feeling is shared by other cancer patients/survivors. Cancer is bigger than me. It is bigger than all of us.
*From wiki.answers.com (because I always look for reliable sources and because if it is written on the internet, it must be true! ha ha): “If you are “someone’s bitch” it means they can tell you what to do and you have to listen and do what they say when they say it.”