The feeling of solitude during multiple myeloma came along with some good and bad, according to Judy.
I Would Never Share
It was 2017
68 years old, retired, facing new-born optimism
happy to share my enthusiasm
living my little life with gusto and fervor
but with questions
grandson born healthy, blood of my blood
normal became abnormal, suspicion became anxiety
It was 2018, Valentine’s Day
heart pounding, hope heady
the mutation of reality, reeling
realizing my body
was not the antibody, not the antiseptic
wishing for a magical bone of contention
to argue with — to rage against — to deny
It was that August molecules realigned
the flow of hope was hunger for respite
for normalcy for circulation of life
New York City with my daughter to see through her eyes
the lights, the lives, the flow a city generates
the flow a body generates
It was 2020, decision made
silent consent permission acceptance
then the pandemic mutated reality
denying science, ignoring logic
realizing my life blood
circulates stronger than ignorance
COVID-19 avoidable, my truth undeniable
from my marrow, my soul, the single thing
I would never share
Is Cancer
The Diagnosis
To be on the outside looking in at my own life was weird
It was the creep on the back of my neck that scared
Darkness was never my friend; it’s something I feared
Grappling with reality was to the point of absurd
There was a screwdriver sticking in my head — I was not prepared
To be on the outside looking in at my own life was weird
Understanding seemed relatively easy, but was soothing to discard
There was no peace, no respite — I was not being spared
Darkness was never my friend; it’s something I feared
Incessant hammering of my heart finally disappeared
The dilemma was not mine alone and it could be shared
To be on the outside looking in at my own life was weird
Acceptance came slowly as I mentally matured
Guilt, anger, denial needed to be commandeered
Darkness was never my friend; it’s something I feared
Coming to terms with chaos should definitely be revered
Survival, acknowledgement and quiet soon appeared
To be on the outside looking in at my own life was weird
Darkness was never my friend; it’s something I no longer fear
The Solitude of Reality
That place between anxiety and sadness
is a crevice where only I see my exit.
The solitude is exclusive
and silence is a strain.
Sentiment enhances the good,
disbelief intensifies the bad.
There is some freedom in knowing.
I feel the weight of my hour,
the burden my family will feel,
the gravity of departure.
I understand the reality.
It’s the imagination that suffers.
This poem was written and submitted by Judy Jones Brickner. The article reflects the views of Brickner and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.
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