Breast Cancer Poetry, by Mary Olsen Kelly

Institute

Breast Cancer Poetry

Why we say we
by Doug Manuel, for Josie
("We are not amused" - Queen Victoria)

The queen confused herself with her empire and lost her sense of humor.
We are not confused - we know we are two separate people - man and wife.
Yet when we met, when we married, when we had children and grandchildren,
we knew that we were amused - that something existed between us, beyond us,
that exists as a third entity - something each individual contributed to and could draw on.

And now we have cancer,
knowing that one of us must fight an internal battle
and one of us will tend the supply lines,
knowing that the two of us are one,
each afraid - each giving courage to the other,
knowing that we will endure.

Holding Hands
by Doug Manuel, for Josie
(1965 - Sir Francis Drake High School, San Anselmo, California)

Third date, away basketball game at Terra Linda,
the path from the parking lot to the gym
blocked by a wire cable.
We ducked under the wire,
reaching for each other's hand to steady ourselves,
knowing yet not knowing the meaning
of holding hands,
surprised by the electricity,
delighted by the simplicity,
content in the rightness
of such a simple act.

And we never let go -
even to arrange fingers in a more comfortable arrangement,
even to appease the Dean of Women
and rules against public displays of affection.

We held hands to exchange rings,
to deliver two children,
to teach them to cross the street,
to make a swing for grandchildren,
as we walked - one, two, three.

Prognosis
by Doug Manuel, for Josie
(2001 - Swedish Medical Center, Seattle, Washington)

Diagnosis
His hands knew the tumor was malignant.

Pre-Op
I held her hand as she lay on the gurney,
waiting for Dr. Dawson.
when he arrived, I let go of her hand
and he took her hand in his.
And walked beside her,
holding her hand.

Post-Op
He told me many things.
I wrote them down,
Asked questions, relieved and worried,
looking for hidden meanings,
sifting through hopes and fears.
He explained that she would be fine,
detailed the required next steps.
Information swirled,
yet I knew his meaning fully,
understood his gentle smile,
when he said,
"I held her hand."

Bad Luck
by Doug Manuel, for Josie
("Bad luck comes in threes")

Friday:
We were upstairs - the dog, Chester, in the living room.
No bark, no whine to be let out, just a puddle of piss
plus a trickle trail across the entire carpet
with all the zigzags of a wall street stock chart.
Stains can be removed.

Saturday:
I had mowed the lawn,
And was applying the finishing touches with the weed eater,
confident in safety goggles that its high speed nylon whirl
would attack only the edges and the weeds.
Ear plugs muffed the thwack of a rock thrown from weed eater
into the sliding glass door - thump.
The glass tempered its destruction into a lacy filigree of rivers
and streams and creeks, groaning with each new crack for hours.
Glass can be replaced.

Sunday:
We waited.
We walked, we talked, we laughed at our superstitions, at ourselves.
We had a good day.

Monday:
The radiologist, Dr. Rose, pointed at an X-ray of Josie's right breast,
and said,
"This malignancy must be taken out"

Good Luck
by Doug Manuel, for Josie
("X-ray film records the absence of radiation. Tumors appear as bright lights.")

One looks for positives in the negatives.
All is made more intense.

Lets start with Josie's dad's fourth wife's daughter-in-law, Anne,
and the fact that she is an oncology nurse and was able to answer
all our scary questions in such a calm and reassuring way.

Let's continue with family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, doctors, nurses, acquintances,
strangers and those yet to be met.

Let us discover again what we already knew
and find in its newness - strength.

Let us find each other
and discover again the strength of those connections.

Let us travel together when our paths join
And take pleasure in each others company.

And when our paths diverge
let us wish each other good luck.

White Water
by Doug Manuel, for Josie

This river we travel on was not of our choosing.

We were not heading in this direction, when we slammed into the first rock.

Cancer - malignant. It took three doctors before we could even believe we had hit a rock.

By that time, we were upside down, over the first falls, taking on water, spinning, gasping for breath.

There were people on the bank calling to us - "You are in the river" "Start paddling" "Breathe" "There is another waterfall ahead" "Stay to the right" "Stay to the left" "Are you okay?" "Get out of the river" "You can make it downstream" "Others have gone before you"

When one is in a whirpool, one can not swim toward the surface, one can not overcome the downward force of the water. One must swim downward with the pressure, letting the turbulence push down, out then up. That requires presence of mind, especially when one is not sure what is up and what is down.

(With some wild animals one must maintain eye contact or they will attack. With others eye contact is seen as a threat and they will attack. I do not remember which is which.)

For the moment, we have righted the boat and are learning to paddle, know we are on the river, know there is rough water ahead, know there are people both on the bank and in the water to offer help and know that we will make it.

We will make this river our river.

On the Eve of Bald
by Mary Olsen Kelly
(This is a poem that I wrote as my hair was falling out from chemotherapy.)

Feathery Fine, Floating
Wisps in the Wind
Fine as spun silk

Hair, falling like snow.
Filling downy coverlets
Birds dream of nests so soft

Angel hair
Shedding like dust
Molting on my shoulders

Clouds of gray and blond
On the rug, on the pillow
Falling, falling.

Marking the Initiation
She enters the temple
Leaving vanity at its door.

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