One Year On A Chemo Drug

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Just a low dose, but still, it’s a chemo drug and I have mixed feelings.
It gave me my life back but took small pieces of my freedom as well.

The Yin and Yang of life, the certainty that everything comes with a price
The balance of our existence. You take, you give.

I am masking up everywhere I go to protect myself and became a target
for political radicals who think they know it all by knowing nothing.

Publicly humiliated by a stranger, who believes his political views
give him the right to call out a woman wearing a face mask.

I didn’t know I can talk that loud, didn’t think I could be that harsh.
I can hit hard, which he felt, every blow -word by word.

My hair didn’t fall out, it deserved the purple and blue stripes I put in to celebrate.
How can I not play with color, when life around me has become so gray?

Eight little yellow pills, every Friday night, followed by chocolates
to stop the midnight run to the powder room. Sometimes I sleep through.

I feel so much gratefulness and gratitude to have so little to deal with,
compared with others who fight for their lives -and often lose.

Just an autoimmune disease, seems like nothing at first.
Then came the realization that I am really sick, no room left to play around anymore.

A drink sent me into agony, and a burger gave me pain and fogginess
No grains, no sugar, no dairy. A long list. So much forbidden but so much left to enjoy.

Sleeplessness, cured with two Kiwis each night. Juicing has become an addiction.
So much doesn’t make sense until we try it, I am glad I am curious enough.

Eyes wide open, smiling, bouncing toward my future.
The chemo pills are not controlling my life, they are a gift.

I have met others like me. Strong women and men,
we open up, we share, we compare, and we cheer for all.

The disciplined ones are on a winning streak, in a minefield full of temptations.
One wrong step blows us out of remission. I have learned strictness.

Eight little pills a week gave me my life back.
I do the rest.

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