33 POEM: Awakening of the Tiger Woman

Awakening of the Tiger Woman


One more to go.
Only one.
I’d do it tomorrow if they’d let me.

So close I can taste it.
Almost done.
An end to the poisons that get me.

Yesterday’s sorrowful tears,
bitter in fears and pain,
are tasting sweet today –
anticipatory joy.

Soon.
Soon my body will return to something familiar.
It’s become a stranger
with
striped fingernails
and
thinning eyebrows,
sudden fatigue
and
nausea
lurking in random moments –
night sweats
and
mangled taste buds.

Did we kill the nasty cancer?Was it worth the months of chemical hell?
Only Time will tell me – slowly.

Father Time, befriend me!
Let me ask for fifty years if it’s gone.
Yes, that’s it! Let me ask
for fifty more years
if it’s really gone.

I can do a lot of good in fifty years.
I can help a lot of people.
Hold hands while another’s tears grieve cancer fears.
Create comfort by sharing my story.

In this heart beats a tiger woman.

Sometimes tired and sometimes sad.
Focused on survival.
Protecting her cub.
In this stranger of a body
with bloody noses,
dry skin,
numb fingers,
numb toes,
the mind emerges intact from a chemical-induced fog.

I’ll submit to serving as pincushion, but I refuse to be a victim.

One more treatment left to go…
Only one.

I’ve survived the surgeries
and the complications,
the side effects
and the sympathetic stares.
I’ve survived the well-meant bad advice
from loved ones who care.
I’ve survived simple sickness turned scary
with hospital trips because nothing is simple now.
I will continue to bounce back.
I will continue to get well.
Without hesitation
I will hold my bald head high
on strong shoulders
and plan my life – thriving – for the next fifty years.

I don’t care why this happened.

I only care how it has added to my appreciation
of everything in this world that is
beautiful
and
selfless
and
compassionate.

I will emerge from this long, dark tunnel of treatment
stronger than ever.
Tiger stripes in my nails.
Loving fully.
Protecting my cub.
Rejoicing that my mate still kisses my lips
and rubs my fuzzy head,
and sees the beautiful woman I am.


Written by Angela Patterson
Copyright Angela Patterson 2006

6/29/2006
This is the first poem that I wrote last Friday night during the Jimmy LaFave concert.

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