Chemotherapy

 

The Surgeon took flesh from under my arm;

Sent it to Pathologists to determine the harm,

Then all who saw it were prone to agree:

“Malignant Sarcoma.  He needs Chemotherapy!”

 

I asked my physician, “What will it bother?”

“First, your alimentary canal, from one end to the other.

The next thing to befall this wondrous plan,

Is loss of hair in most every man.”

 

“Also of concern are your blood platelet counts,

How far they will fall and how high they will bounce.

Many other things will continue to plague you,

Sores and boils and fever and ague.”

 

“The main purpose is to bring you up to Death’s door,

We won’t let you through, others have tried that before,

We will base your next batch of chemical juice,

On your last brush with death, if returned to use.”

 

The Doctor who said this was full of good cheer,

(After all, what things did he have to fear).

Though this treatment has stirred up a considerable fuss,

I am sure I’ll still die; run down by a bus.

 

- Bobby D. Collier, 1994

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