With COVID-19 taking its deadly toll across the nation, it’s easy to forget about a disease that has affected the lives of all too many people: cancer.
Each of us knows someone who has had to battle cancer in one of its many forms. I lost my brother to Non-Hodgkins lymphoma, an aunt to breast cancer, my only niece to a brain tumor and my best friend to ocular melanoma. I lost one friend to colon cancer and another to pancreatic cancer and still another to lung cancer. Three of my friends are currently dealing with different stages of breast cancer.
The bright side of my brother’s cancer — if any story that ends in death can be called “bright” — is that we became much closer after his diagnosis. We set aside past differences, especially those on the political front. He was a Republican, but I guarantee you that he would never have voted for Trump. We both admired John McCain. He hated people who, like Trump, cheat at golf (he was a scratch golfer) or business, and he hated bullies and blowhards. I gave him my bone marrow, which extended his life around three years, and I still wear proudly my “Bone Marrow Brothers” t-shirt. I inherited his golf clubs, a nice gesture by his widow Nancy, but by that time my prowess on the links was beyond redemption.
Closer to home, my wife Tina was diagnosed with breast cancer right before Christmas in 1996. She survived, thanks to effective chemotherapy and radiation. That said, it was a harrowing experience, as anyone touched by cancer will tell you. After her last treatment, we took a celebratory trip to Hawaii. I also wrote and published a piece entitled, “David I Have a Lump: One Husband’s Story.” After that piece ran on a medical web site, I started getting emails from people around the country, and I answered every one.
Two years later, she went for a physical checkup, only to learn that her breast cancer might have returned. Cancer does that sometimes. The next day, disheartened, we took a long walk with our dog Chowder. On the drive home, the NPR show “Here and Now” featured a guest talking about tankas, a form of Japanese poetry, a short song with a syllabic formula meant to convey strong emotion. The show’s moderator announced that they would have a contest. Listeners could submit two tankas, and two people would be chosen to read their poems on the air. Filled with emotion, I took up the challenge, wrote two tankas and was chosen to read them.
The first tanka refers to the time we first got Tina’s diagnosis:
“Stranger at the Door”
“God, I have a lump!”
“Could it be? Not you, too soon.
The stranger’s here. Wait!
Our love, their drugs, keep dreams lit.
Come back tomorrow, stranger.”
The second tanka refers to the time we learned her cancer might have returned. (Fortunately, it had not).
“Beast and the Beauty”
The beast returns now
And with it more sweet sorrow.
Be done tears, go fears.
Outside now, to look for joy.
Nature bears her beauty, too.
Sending warm thoughts and prayers to all those who are dealing directly or indirectly with the unwelcome stranger that is cancer.
David Treadwell, a Brunswick writer, welcomes commentary and suggestions for future “Just a Little Old” columns. dtreadw575@aol.com.
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