POEM: 2009, AGE 24  Saturday, January 19, 2008

A CA125 poem, even though people who write poems seem to bore me, this one is about tests and HPV. 🙂


It’s unusual for me to feel the need to talk about this. Something far in my past. The last topic on my list. My reminisce is still hard to miss. I often wonder just how hard it was for my family and my friends…to share this with me CA125, CA125-related cancer. It was, after all…the…last…chance of…a type of thing we ever expected. And I do sympathize. But you should realize that for me, it was harder. From emotions to words, I can not possibly size…I was so surprised. The HPV impact and the magnitude…I was so sick, emotions running thick like my fate was bought. Like cells can talk or walk…bringing me to a point I thought of…why me?

In my high school years, I remember, with embedded fear, people having CA125 health problems, my peers, and thinking to myself, I’m so lucky to have my health. The clock ticked and moved circularly like…obicularis, lucky strike, not a moment felt…Dangerous. The dealer was fair to us…but then…a traitor to us…Unrationed and free health, my hand this time, dealt, was shit…and…it…was…not good. And I sympathized with those folks before me with their pain and emotion. Holding something locked and looking for that key. Now was the turn for me and my whole family tree. But I never thought me.

How was I to be left with bad conditions?

My joys in life made my wealth, full energies and hearts I had felt. Then one day, the nonmeat eating, five-mile running, animal loving, sister, daughter, best friend ’til the end, cunning, lover, buddy, aunt, who can’t…and won’t turn her shoulder, cosmic, strong, even if you’re wrong, always giving with vision and…So much love….eccentric, electric, good girl, don’t you forget it…meeting and greeting with arms wide and accepting…myself I believed in, who was never cheating…on anything. Friends, lovers, men, my friends. He was diagnosed…with terminal HPV-derived cancer.

My lifeline time took before I could say it was okay. I had high levels of CA125. I was the good girl; this way couldn’t have been imposed on the one who always showed her great and honest self. The good girl queen. Then, one day, something bad happened to me. And I could not understand. Changed was my world. I judged myself. I imagined I did something. How was I supposed to wake up and get diagnosed with a CA125 test kit? Something was wrong, a detailed ghost that I couldn’t explain. To be plain…Damn. But my friends and family helped rearrange the last puzzle pieces so they fit in plain…they helped me and kept me. They saw my profane amount of innermost …being. Courage is what was learned. Fingers full of friends ’til the end. Uncountable. On both feet and hands.

My fate I could not comprehend

Was this the fight I should fend for? Where was my sympathy again? One night, after I shaved that hair, that laughed unfairly in my face, the ridiculous joke, every fucking time I woke, there on my pillow tote, stay it won’t, sunlights of long thick strands, blond, touched by strangers’ hands, my feminine locks…lost. My last walk with what happened…my wrestle-final tap-in, I sat with a friend, not a circle of friends. Many, many friends. Who cried for me?

My thoughts went to my personality. And how she sympathized. Cristine. Tears shed for me…That was when I stopped judging myself for catching HPV. I realized why I sympathized…it was because I was a good person. And I deserved that rationality of…sometimes…you…can…not…control…everything. There’s that sympathy!

Friends and family to make you stay

If, at any time, she forgets, you become stuck in a troubled time when no whine or time or wine or fine health gets you through your troubles. You must know what you have been through, multiply it twice, understand where you have come from, and recognize what time and experiences have been. With every single stumble along the way, the fumbles, you have friends and family to make you stay on this paved path of laughs and shafts of the matrix of life, strife, and righteousness and to sympathize.

You still can not touch me. I almost took my leave…I know I have been a good person who has sympathized. It might not be wise, or every person’s prize (then again, I am pretty smart and quite the catch), but the point is…I almost died. But I didn’t. To my friends and family, who have endured eternally, this person of my own who breathes shade and light and trees, yes, me…I want to thank you for being there and for being fair. I want to say Thank You.

I want to see my vision of a person as a whole, which tries to control but can’t

A new soul of happenstance…A person who now knows a new kind of control…one I can not predict. And I was never one to forfeit…so to feel for it….I want it…go ALL, especially what I’ve given up to learn from it…and still life is worth it. I’ll remain bold like wind and snow with lessons yet to unfold. Blow your buccinator on that wick…then relight it. I wish you would try it. Let that bump jump, and retry it. Thanx for giving me the hotbox and toxic medicine I needed. Thank goodness the HPV Doctors we heeded…horrible and magical wands…of this world I have grown rather fond. I’m the one, and my CA125 cancer is GONE now; I will always be strong…and…the time for you to sympathize with me…is gone.