Please don’t ask—
about my prognosis,
if I’m terminal,
what stage I am in,
have you gotten second or third opinions,
have you tried this treatment?
I feel hollow, invisible, as cancer wins your attention. Don’t drain my precious energy telling me
what I should do next. It is not your body, not your journey, not your life.
This is between me, my chosen tribe, and God.
Stop giving me platitudes—
stay positive,
take up needlepoint,
visit another country,
read this book,
meditate, pray more,
change your diet,
travel to where my aunt who had cancer went.
Let me initiate if I want to talk about cancer. I will tell you when I need your embrace, need to
share the fury of my anger, how I ache with shooting pain where the cancer lives within me.
Ask me what I need. Look into my eyes. Come alongside me with love and compassion.
I cannot make you feel better—
Your discomfort is about your own fear of mortality.
Striving for constant happiness is an illusion.
We are all the same distance from the ditch.
If there is a high, there will be a low.
Where there is a mountain, there will be a valley.
I may not share it, but I look closely when you are not around.
I watch my body decline as side effects ravage my limbs; my limitations tarnish my dreams.
I struggle to love the battle-scarred parts of me, to love the life I still have left, amongst the losses.
I can have cancer and be happy. I can have cancer and be sad.
I can integrate all these parts of me because they are the truth of me.
I am whole.
About the Author
Michele is a life coach and writer from Dallas, Texas. Her first collection of poetry, Walking by Starlight: A Healing Journey Through Cancer, was published in 2018.
