The Unknown
"Something in the way." --Kurt Cobain
I am so afraid of the unknown that is coming for me.
I am fearful, too, about the pain that there is going to be.
Dying of cancer, like death by fire,
Has been my worst fear—a lifelong, towering phobia.
For me, even the thought of cancer has always scared me;
And with fearful feelings, overwhelmed me—
Too much for me even to try to imagine.
For me, it is the most fearsome, frightening way to die.
Now, in vast phobic proportions in my terrified heart,
It has become, unbelievably,
My reality.
It splits my heart and shatters my mind,
As the days slide me toward this seemingly unstoppable doom,
And my precious loved life heads toward slow, painful cancer death.
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Only one doctor says I might be cured: but he only means two to five years.
None of the other doctors even bother to use the word cure—
Except the last one, a surgeon who told me:
“Your cancer probably isn’t curable.”
Probably isn’t curable. Probably, probably, probably.
And so my one and only chance to live like a man again,
To stop the dreadful, testosterone-depleting injections,
And to effect my one slight chance to escape being killed by cancer,
May be taken away from me,
Based on a “probably.”
Thus turning “probably”
Into certainty.
-----------------------
For without surgery, not only will it be a virtual guarantee
That I will die the worst horrible death of my most phobic nightmares;
But also, in the meantime, I will remain robbed of my sexuality—
Surrounded by a society saturated with sex—
Tortured every day by ordinary advertisements and magazine racks,
And by the sight of attractive women who no longer attract me:
Sexual stimulants that only distantly stir something that is now barely there—
Just a little feeling left—and only once in a while—
Just enough, and just often enough, to remind me of the man I used to be;
Which torments me.
My only hope to escape dying of cancer—an escape I hope for fervently—
A small chance, I know—and to be a normal human male again--is surgery.
If not, then death soon, painfully and permanently, will take me.
But regardless, at some point, my time must crash into eternity;
And I will be swallowed by the unknown.
=======================
Written by Michael LP, aka MLP
aka PoetWithCancer, aka PWC, aka Mr. Poet
Written on Easter Sunday, April 12, 2009 11:31 pm
Temperature: 640 Winds: 0 MPH
Copyright © by Michael L.P. All rights reserved
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