Not a War - a Poem on a Patient’s Journey with Cancer

Cancer is not an easy disease to deal with. People diagnosed with this disease go through many struggles. When viewed through the lens of palliative care, the diagnosis aggravates the total pain manifold. One of the factors fuelling total pain is the 'expectation' to fight a war called cancer.

The use of this terminology can create emotional havoc with the person diagnosed. As someone who was diagnosed with cancer, it put undue pressure on me to 'perform' when I was told that I had to fight this war.

I have been working as a Palliative care and cancer care counselor for many years. Knowing families dealing with cancer closely, I believe it's time to refine our communication skills. Let's address cancer as a 'disease' that affects many. No one wins or loses to cancer, some survive and some don't.

I share my thoughts through this poem that I wrote.

I saw her many years back
She was young
Traveling the 'life' cycle
Like so many others
She thought it was on track.

And then
She met cancer
They said she was being attacked
But in her mind ' it was neither her enemy nor her foe
An unwanted companion.
Who walked holding her hand
Toe to toe

The treatment went for the 'kill'.
They said it's a battle she must fight.
The arms and the 'munition' they gave
Created roadblocks in her cycle of life.

When will the battle end, she wondered.

The voices she heard echoed,
“Fight, fight, fight!
Don't you dare surrender”
She whispered, “Can I rest for a while? Can I be...?”
In unison, they said “No, no, no!
You are not a quitter!
You are a fighter!
Don't you dare frown!
Like a soldier, fight on!”

She looked at herself in the mirror,
Saw herself tired and beat.
A tear trickled down her cheek.
No, there is no battle that I see.
I am not a soldier fighting a war.
I am a human
With many scars.

I held her hand and said,
“Rest if you wish to.
Cry if you want to.”
And she wept.
“I am tired of being 'brave'.
I don't want to 'fight'.
Not a fighter, nor a warrior,
Nor a coward,
I just want to be 'me'.
No, I ain't giving up but
Let me be human.
Isn't that my 'right'?”

Then she rested,
Weak and tired.
But her soul was lighter.
On her lips a very gentle smile.
The heavy cloak of 'war' unburdened.
I heard her breath.
In relief, she sighed.