Side Effects
There is a poem written by an unknown author titled "What Cancer Cannot Do". If you have spent any time in a cancer treatment arena as a patient, family member or healthcare provider, you have undoubtedly seen it in a frame on a wall, in a pamphlet about 'coping', or in an inscription of an inspirational painting. I first saw it on the wall on 9100 in Duke Hospital as a new oncology nurse. It was hanging on the wall to the right as soon as you turned down the main hall. It was in an unassuming frame, in an unassuming size 14 font, but I felt compelled to stand there and read it. If you have never heard of this poem or read it, you can find it here.
The take home message of this poem (or what I perceive it as) is to point out how weak cancer is. It names 10 things cancer is incapable of doing. I assume this is an effort to empower whomever is reading the poem against cancer and all its shortcomings.
One thing cancer can do is kill my mother. With a rather abrupt quickness I might add. But that's just one thing on a list. A single item, a single act, a single ability. On the list of what cancer couldn't do to my mom, well, that list is rather vast and substantive. That list is full of innumerable examples of what it could not do to her.
The insufferable truth of my mom's cancer journey was that it, by in large, took a back seat to the debilitation and pain she had to endure from her back injury. Her excruciating pain was due to this injury. Her inability to walk or use her legs was due to this injury. Discovering her cancer had returned has been a byproduct of a work up done to help with her back and spinal injuries.
This leads me to title her list not just things cancer cannot do, but more so things pain and illness cannot do. Or even the shortcomings of the knowledge of imminent death. John Green says pain, depression, fear are not side effects of cancer, but that they are side effects of dying. So many variables at play as to what challenges, obstacles, slip ups, falls can occur within this complex scenario. So many things create all the more powerful act to bear witness to someone illustrating what ALL OF THEM cannot do. fuck em.
I started taking candid pictures of my mother the week in January we knew this would be the beginning of the end. I wanted to capture the essence of what all Joan could do and expose the weakness of what all the side effects of dying cannot do.
The take home message of this poem (or what I perceive it as) is to point out how weak cancer is. It names 10 things cancer is incapable of doing. I assume this is an effort to empower whomever is reading the poem against cancer and all its shortcomings.
One thing cancer can do is kill my mother. With a rather abrupt quickness I might add. But that's just one thing on a list. A single item, a single act, a single ability. On the list of what cancer couldn't do to my mom, well, that list is rather vast and substantive. That list is full of innumerable examples of what it could not do to her.
The insufferable truth of my mom's cancer journey was that it, by in large, took a back seat to the debilitation and pain she had to endure from her back injury. Her excruciating pain was due to this injury. Her inability to walk or use her legs was due to this injury. Discovering her cancer had returned has been a byproduct of a work up done to help with her back and spinal injuries.
This leads me to title her list not just things cancer cannot do, but more so things pain and illness cannot do. Or even the shortcomings of the knowledge of imminent death. John Green says pain, depression, fear are not side effects of cancer, but that they are side effects of dying. So many variables at play as to what challenges, obstacles, slip ups, falls can occur within this complex scenario. So many things create all the more powerful act to bear witness to someone illustrating what ALL OF THEM cannot do. fuck em.
I started taking candid pictures of my mother the week in January we knew this would be the beginning of the end. I wanted to capture the essence of what all Joan could do and expose the weakness of what all the side effects of dying cannot do.
Dying cannot take away the ambition and goals to work on physical therapy in the pool.
Dying cannot take away the intricate perfectionism of crimping apple pie crust.
Dying cannot take away the beauty of creating a fresh arrangement of flowers.
Dying cannot remove the joy of crafting a perfectly sloppy, freshly made s'mores,
Dying cannot take away the will to get into the seat and have a look into the witchcraft that is 'the eye exam'.
Dying cannot take away the desire to have impeccable highlights put in you hair.
Dying cannot dampen the warmth of towel drying your own hair.
Nor the happiness of blow drying and curling your hair just the way you've always done.
Dying cannot take away trips to Barnes and Noble to refresh the mantra that "YOU are a Badass".
Dying cannot prevent the salty, savory deliciousness of freshly boiled oysters in the company of great friends.
Dying cannot take away the display of unending love.
Dying cannot eliminate the opportunity to contribute to the navigation attempt, however archaic that tool may be.
Dying cannot remove the feeling of sand on your toes, salt in your hair, and sun on your face.
Dying cannot take away the pleasure of a long needed pedicure.
Dying cannot prevent you from falling asleep on the couch watching TV with your honey.
Dying cannot prevent your preference to make Mexican rice to go with our fish tacos.
Dying cannot take away the special, pretty feeling from a mini-makeover at Nordstroms.
Dying cannot take away the power that comes from a loving touch over pizza night.
Dying cannot take away aggressively enjoying cake batter.
Or aggressively enjoying freshly picked strawberries in the car.
Dying cannot cripple creative thinking to paint a wine glass.
I love that wine glass.
Dying cannot remove the pleasures of coffee and homemade scones in the morning with the company of your love.
Dying cannot eliminate curiosities to try different flavors of Amish chow chow.
Dying cannot dampen the excitement of looking at bridal magazines and wedding planners with your daughter.
Dying cannot remove the hope that your daughter may find 'the one' during this trip.
Dying can do so little really, when you think about it. A singular act, albeit a grave one, but a single act no less. Everything else that comes with it are merely side effects. Side effects we do our best to offset and moderate in whatever ways we can. When you take the time to see how much you can do compared to what it cannot, those moments make life worth living, if only for an instant.