Saturday, December 29, 2007

Merry Merry Quite Contrary



On the first day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, a focus on mortality.

On the second day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.

On the third day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, three scars to mend, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.

On the fourth day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, four funky turds, three scars to mend, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.

On the fifth day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, FIVE BROKEN DREAMS. Four funky turds, three scars to mend, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.

On the sixth day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, six insurers payin’, five broken dreams! Four funky turds, three scars to mend, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.

On the seventh day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, seven kids a’staring, six insurers payin’, five broken dreams! Four funky turds, three scars to mend, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.

On the eighth day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, eight blood counts sinkin’, seven kids a’staring, six insurers payin’, five broken dreams! Four funky turds, three scars to mend, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.

On the ninth day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, nine shots a’smarting, eight blood counts sinkin’, seven kids a’staring, six insurers payin’, five broken dreams! Four funky turds, three scars to mend, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.

On the tenth day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, ten hours sleeping, nine shots a’smarting, eight blood counts sinkin’, seven kids a’staring, six insurers payin’, five broken dreams! Four funky turds, three scars to mend, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.

On the eleventh day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, eleven nurses nursing, ten hours sleeping, nine shots a’smarting, eight blood counts sinkin’, seven kids a’staring, six insurers payin’, five broken dreams! Four funky turds, three scars to mend, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.

On the twelfth day of cancer, my chemo gave to me, twelve friends to sooth me, eleven nurses nursing, ten hours sleeping, nine shots a’smarting, eight blood counts sinkin’, seven kids a’staring, six insurers payin’, five broken dreams! Four funky turds, three scars to mend, two rubber gloves, and a focus on mortality.


3 comments:

Anai said...

You should start an online song-writing business. You can bring laughter to any situation. At least no one can say you aren't dealing with your feelings towards treatment. I love and miss you. Here's to remission and new life in '08!

Mary Pat said...

You are truly talented and have a knack to make me smile. I read your blog regularly and toast to a 2008 being a remission filled remarkable year.You are in my thoughts daily... Love you!
Mary Pat

slucas said...

Is that four funky turds each day, or total? Too personal?

You are funny :) Love!