Here are three poems describing my three years (so far) of CANCER.
Why do I say so far even though I don't have cancer anymore?
Because cancer survivorship is a lifelong experience.
Because getting cancer is a life-changing experience.
Because the side effects of cancer treatments go on well past the all-clear.
Because every time I open my personal Instagram feed -- no matter how long I've stayed away -- there's a new RIP post for a young newlywed, or a midlife mom like me, or a woman who's wrestled the cancer beast more than once in her lifetime.
I could go on and say "Because, cancer" about so many things. And I will. But for now, here are three reflections on my life with cancer in poetic form.
Part 1: Treatment (2020-2021)
I first wrote this one on my desk with magnetic poetry (it's still there!) when the fear of my upcoming surgery loomed large. The only surgery I had before my double mastectomy with lymph node removal was a gum tissue graft. I wasn't afraid of the pain, I was terrified I wouldn't wake up.
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by Michelle Seitzer
between conscious thought,
anxiety fermented in dreaming
I feel like a ghost: skeleton life and silent heart
but I always smile
the noise from my elaborate emotions, a whisper of worry
curse this finite bosom
{taken at 5:27pm on March 2, 2021, after I woke up from surgery}
Part 2: Recovery (2021)
I finished active treatment in early June of 2021 (chemo, surgery, radiation). By mid-summer and well into fall, I experienced depression so severe it took me months to realize what was going on. One day, when a dear friend instructed me to call my primary care doctor requesting an urgent appointment (and sat beside me while I did it), she told me I was still sick -- that my brain was sick -- and these were the most comforting and affirming words I could ever hear and didn't know I needed to hear until that moment.
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by Michelle Seitzer
There I am!
fumbling,
floundering,
plummeting,
rising,
Crushed and flattened to the nadir,
Stuck like the leaf trapped in painted lines on the road,
Patterns of peeling paint, the vestige of a leaf left behind,
Like the bus I couldn't get on, always pulling away,
I've found myself again, but I've changed.
I'll lose myself again, but I'm still here.
Surviving.
Thriving.
Here I am!
(inspired by what I saw on my morning walks that fall)
Part 3: Survivorship (2022)
Before cancer, I used to think, "If I got cancer and survived it, I'd be so grateful and never think about it again."
Wrong.
It's easy to think that way until you get cancer.
And you are so very grateful. And you don't want to think about it ever again. Both things are true.
What is also true is that something that changes every facet of your life on every single front is always with you. Every new pain that sends you spiraling. Every new bill that shows up right after you've sent a payment. Every moment of PTSD that tightens your chest when you go to the doctor. Every pang of grief that stings your eyes when you stumble on a reminder of what you lost. Every announcement of another death, another stage I-III turned stage IV diagnosis, another report of disease progression that triggers yet another social media hiatus.
You are grateful, and you are changed. Survivorship is a heavy crown.
The World Is Your Oyster: A Psalm for Survivors
by Michelle Seitzer
The world is your oyster; when cancer is gone.
You see things with different eyes. You want to live deeply, fully, freely.
You must find yourself again. Traveling amid the wreckage, a new version of you.
You just came face to face with death and pain lived under your skin,
but you did not flinch,
Even when you were alone; you were among others, which anchored you.
All the others who went before you and had another ending;
You live with the weight of their stories;
your grief overflows.
Surely gratitude and hope must go with you, for you have been given a second life,
and you shall walk in the shadow of cancer forever.
(inspired by Psalm 23; photos with my medical & surgical oncologists -- the women who saved my life -- from Cancer Survivors Day, June 5, 2022)