The past six weeks have been stressful and emotional. Two major surgeries in 2 1/2 weeks is also tough on the body. In total, I’ve endured two rounds of general anesthetic, two sets of stitches and/or staples, countless IV and syringe pokes, and almost three days admitted to the hospital.
Four weeks ago, I was again post-surgery and one day home. Now, I am back at the keyboard working — writing — for a living. For life. It’s hard to write about this situation, but it’s also hard to write about anything else. In an effort to get back on the horse, get over the bump, and maybe even thumb my nose at Melanoma, I offer poetry. And humor. Because if I don’t laugh, I’ll surely cry.
Laugh with me:
Part One: PET/CT Prose
24 hours of low-carb hell, then:
Enjoy your barium shake
and complimentary bar-code bracelet.
Warm blanket wraps — as many as you desire!
“3 – 2 – 1: Please hold your breath.”
[Cue relaxing tune, The Girl from Ipanema.] “You may now exhale.”
Welcome to the Radioactive Spa.
Part Two: Hospital Gown Haiku
“Opens in the back.”
Back? It opens everywhere!
This is not clothing!
Part Three: Recovery Rhyme
Sleeping in the recliner:
There is nothing finer,
for when you can’t lie flat
and you feel like you went ‘splat’!
Fifteen staples halfway around my neck,
(Yes, I look like a total wreck).
As I stumble around in a post-anesthesia fog,
“I will campaign against the choke chain! -” is my promise to the dog.
No driving, no exercising, no housework: it’s a shut-in’s life.
I am now re-acquainted with daytime T.V. strife.
Though, I did find Little House, Indiana Jones, and Golden Girls —
Even Shirley Temple, God rest her good soul, and her curls…