My adamant heart
learned patience
from basket weavers
along the Carolina road
‘The Beatitudes’
by Kronos Quartet is playing
on this Thursday night
when I remember
my English and hospice teacher
“I’m in the dark!” cried Pacino
in ‘Scent of a Woman’
but the tango can make life bearable
We would visit Ernie
She said:
“Save the key lime pie for me”
while riddled with pancreatic cancer
I will never eat another slice
before I see her again
nor speak in hollow phrases
before I find the words
that suggest a quiet understanding
to all of this
Was it Banting and Best,
Collip and McLeod’s feat ?
Whose efforts bore fruits,
And ‘Insulin’ was discovered.
Or was it the Compassionate Creator.
Who really Sorted out the pancreatic mystery,
And Granted man the sense,
To perfect the pancreatic extract,
That was injected to people with diabetes,
Safely and successfully !
A new era dawned in the history of medicine.
Many hopeless souls,
Got relieved and cheerful.
On being Gifted Insulin,
The “lifeline” so much awaited before.
Since that landmark discovery,
Diabetes has witnessed many more breakthroughs.
Each one a lesson, to the faltering human.
Not to despair and to carry on the struggle,
Despite upheavals and failures.
And never to loose the trust on our ‘True Benefector’.
We should always strive keeping us upright,
And keep words and deeds like a mirror.
Kindling the dreary paths for others,
And rescuing fondering hearts, from deep waters .
Ahead, Medicine has many more challenges.
Diabetes also needs more plunges,
Into the oceans of research and practice.
As in 1921, the insulin got invented.
May one day, “Diabetes” get eradicated.
Mrs. McFee should have been named Mrs. McGloom.
Her conversations are like a nasty weird sonic boom.
She likes to spread horrific terrible, worst news.
Horror stories spouted with glee as soon as they brew.
Mrs. McFee has pancreatic cancer going to her brain.
She grins like a Cheshire cat as she gives this refrain.
Marty’s cousin died of Covid-19 last fall.
My mother-in-law has the worst diagnosis of all.
Tally’s neighbor was in a fetal position for two years.
That I will be her next story is one of my awful fears.
Jack Schwartzman had one daughter and three sons.
This producer died of pancreatic cancer at the age of 61.
Sadly, he lost his life thirty years ago today.
His family mourned when he passed away.
He produced "Lionheart" and "Never Say Never Again".
He also produced "Bed & Breakfast" and "Cold Heaven".
His family and friends know that he died too soon.
He died thirty years ago in 1994 on the 15th of June.
[Dedicated to Jack Schwartzman (1932-1994) who died 30 years ago today on June 15, 1994]
Most of us should know that the fourth Thursday,
is called a Thanksgiving Day celebration.
The first Tuesday after the first Monday,
we elect the leaders of our nation.
Maybe you even know the first Sunday,
is when Daylight Savings comes to an end.
But did you know on November the first,
National Pomegranate Month begins.
Also, Native Heritage and Military Family Month,
Epilepsy, Alzheimer’s, and COPD awareness.
How about NAN-O-WRI-MO or Pancreatic Cancer too,
we’ll throw in No Shave November just for fairness.
The first Wednesday is Eating Healthy Day,
the first Thursday is Man Makes Dinner.
The first Friday is Samoan Arbor Day,
and of course, Black Friday is always a winner.
Who can forget World Vegan Day,
or Coronation Day of the fifth Druk in Bhutan.
It’s Liberty Day in the Virgin Islands,
Self-Defense Forces Commemoration in Japan.
It is Veterans Day on the eleventh,
Pneumonia Day on the twelve.
Parfait day on the twenty-fifth,
if you don’t care about your health.
I could just go on and on listing them,
but just between me and you.
We’d still be here reading next November,
and we probably still would not be through.
On our first date out in a restaurant, she told me that her grandmother died of pancreatic cancer! “Well, that is not all true, she had an operation”, “it was the operation that killed her shortly after.”
Sitting at home eating food, after eight years together she said, “would I do it again?”
What you expect me to say? NO. it’s not worth it.
“Not worth it, that’s not the right answer”, “NOT WORTH IT”, “you should say you would never do it again as you love me”.
Slapped across with face noodles, slime, and chicken chow mein. Slapped against the face with a tea towel and then tears but not mine
That night we slept in the same room for the last time and no further words were said. Again, she did not look at my phone or read my messages.
In the morning she had gone to work, I was alone with a letter beside the bed.
“Let yourself out.” and “get your car out of my parking space”.
There is a word that rhymes with disappointment, but her familiar words sound different from mine. Who said my sweet?, that “unconditional love remains”
Ovarian, Breast, Pancreatic, or Lung…
there’s a look that is shared the same
And staring straight into the eyes of time,
all promises gone and reclaimed
Each moment borrowed and leased from your fear,
the walls crashing one by one
Tonight no longer a sleep guaranteed
—under blankets of doubt unsung
(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)
S is for Sugar, once a sweet medicine (it still is, in places)
U do know it was medicine in India in the tenth century -
G God knows why it is so addictive these days (money?)
(As is tobacco, another medicine from the Other Indians Columbus misnamed)
R Refined, white as snow, and like it AVALANCHES of sugar keep on killing
CANDY Crunch is a game that exposes itself and Murderous Sugar
A anyone who wins. game by game, sees the pancreatic explosions
N named SUGAR CRUNCH and SUGAR STARS (awesome; super, delightful)
D Do you recall seeing stars at breakfast when the pre-diabetes hit you?
Y can't we see "refinement" was a put-on job, fake as WHITE sugar, and half pregnant?
In our heads
Are graveyards
Many
Everyday we visit
Every night
We weep
We remember
The one that
Kept us up
Pushing fluids
The other
The car crash
His entrails
Hanging out
The young dad
Bike vs curb
One early dawn
Liver minced
The pancreatic
With cancer
All yellow
All dead
The new baby
Floppy like slinky
No sound
No hope
The breast lady
Besmirched
Figuratively
We failed her
We stay up
Like tonight
Secretly
Crying
Why?
(c) mbsaaka/2020
La La La,
Ya Ya Ya,
Ga Ga Ga.
Awesome like totally Awesome.
Cool Like I was and she was like Waaah
And I was like "YaYa" and she was like "Ye Ye".
Welcome everyone to my little soiree.
I have fish from France and caviar from the sea.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Mrs Goldfish you have a baby tadpole.
Now Son I want you to make me proud.
Never spit first. Wait until they spit at you then
return fire. Make me proud.
Actually my son painted it. He clearly shows
a tendency for Monetesque brush strokes.
Although if you look carefully you can just
detect the Da Da influence.
Mother I hate you. I always have.
I'm going to drown myself in a bath full of honey.
I will just slowly sink away thinking of bees.
I tried so hard with that boy. I gave him everything
But I guess the Artist doesn't fit in a Scientific world.
And the Scientist doesn't fit in an Artist world.
Mrs Goldfish you have 17 different cancers. Some
are lymphomas others are organ cancers. Lung and
pancreatic cancer.
Perhaps you should sit down dear.
I don't feel well. Goodnight all.
he's dancing
he swayze her in his arms
it's a movie
an old movie
he is happy
a very unique joy
doing what he adores
a love like parents feel for their new born baby
it's a love you don’t know exists
until the very moment you live it
usually only reserved for your art or children
i am watching Patrick with a tear in my eye
tell my friends ‘it's just a bit of dust’
i'm sad
no
more then sad
in that moment he is unaware he will die young
unaware he will fight like a brave warrior
take on pancreatic cancer without even a whimper
he beats it for maybe an extra year of life
in the end
the end
(an all too familiar
set of words)
the last two words of a film
this is different
an end
a human life stolen
sends a chill
even
through arctic regions
the dirty C
too many lost
to this disease
draws my ire
he does die
young
he passes as gracefully as he danced
i'm watching the movie
i think to myself
no i speak it out loud
pancreatic cancer
now that's what i call
Dirty Dancing
A friend is terminal
yesterday he told me
standing in the parking lot
stunned, I was blank
wordless affection, noble silence
clasped his hand
we wouldn't hug
We weren't that close
still I sunk inside
fear in me, mixed empathy
how close do you need to be
to share lonely moments of humanity
we're all in the same queue
that, and taxes always come due
He said he's okay
that is his answer
to pancreatic cancer
haunting smile from quivering lips
fake laughs, shrugs
some live years on, he wryly said
vowing happiness till the end
There's a deadline now
not his, it's mine
he's made his peace
my deadline starts today
I share my hugs with you in words
Debra's Doctor gives her a
prognosis of Pancreatic
cancer. She asked him, "How
long do I have to live?" "One
month was his answer!!"
She is listening but she
drifts in and out. In a state
of shock, she cries out!!
Scattered thoughts of her
children, husband, parents,
sisters, brothers, God!!
She can't go on she feels
like she has had enough!!
Why me!!? she screams
inside!! She is trying
desperately to realize, to
realize, to realize!!
"Everything stops right
now!! Oh my God I will die!!
I'm so afraid of death!! This
is not real," she shouts!!
She cries, and cries!!
She ask God, why, why, why?
The Journey Begins!!
Michael Tor 11/14/2015
Dark veil of devastation and pain
covers her soul,she breathes in vain.
For the love of her life has left her here
to view the world through eyes of fear.
There can be no solace nor hint of reason;
simply a heart that knows only treason.
Some say he will dwell in a better place
yet streaming tears burn into her face.
Taken too soon and harshly at that
he's finished at last his mortal combat.
On crystalline waters he steps to the sky
and no longer does he question why.
Yet clouds of anger and confusion
have smothered her in some illusion.
She traces the timbre of his voice
and knows she has to make a choice.
He's gone but never from her soul.
In time she'll leave this deep black hole.
On a personal note: my dearest friend of thirty years lost her husband today from pancreatic cancer...this was written- tearfully -for her.
You were born in 1924 and you died in 2011.
You died one year ago today at the age of 87.
My grandparents gave me one of your records in the late seventies.
And I bought another of your records at a flea market in 1983.
It's a fact that you were a great pianist.
You were talented and you will be missed.
You began recording for Kapp Records in the fifties.
You did an amazing job when you performed Born Free.
In 2010 you were inducted into the Hit Parade Hall of fame.
When you died of pancreatic cancer, it was a damn shame.
You made beautiful music with those piano chords.
Now you're in Heaven playing the piano for the Lord.
(Dedicated to Roger Williams who passed away October 8, 2011.)
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