Home Planet News

a journal of literature & art

The Literary Review

Issue 10         Page 118

The Magic Cooler

On our porch

sits an old green metal cooler,

placed there by a friend.

It holds treasures.

After a long day

wrangling with insurance,

open the cooler

and presto—

chicken pot pie!

Coming home

from a surprise blood transfusion,

open the cooler—

vegetable soup for dinner!

White blood cell counts at zero,

praying to avoid infection,

open the cooler—

mac and cheese from scratch,

Eli’s favorite!

Homemade delights

from unseen hands,

filling us with warmth and love,

day after delicious day—

magic!

Crimson Gold

Who knew cancer patients

went through so much blood?

In some countries

family members

must walk the streets

begging for donors.

But I can rest easy,

knowing that each time

my son’s blood pressure sinks,

or his labs come back low,

bags of that essential fluid

will keep showing up

from somewhere.

I long ago lost count

of how much Eli has needed.

I think of all those

unknown, benevolent souls

who have saved Eli’s life

again and again.

If only I could

reach out my hand

to thank each one

for their selfless,

impossibly precious

gift.

© C.TvM: Hello, Swan 2021

Trial by Fire

Amid the awfulness of cancer

arises the awesome strength

of this child who became an adult

too soon.

The source of that strength

remains a mystery.

But now that my son has looked

death in the face,

what on earth

could possibly

scare him?

Age of Reason

What is the best age

for a child to have cancer?

Should I be grateful

that my boy was stricken

when he was old enough

to understand?

On the cancer ward,

I watch the other children,

the sobbing babies,

in their uncomprehending agony;

the giggling toddlers

in the bright red wagons;

the preschoolers

who drive around in plastic cars,

as their parents follow,

pulling their IV poles;

the 7-year-olds struggling

with their schoolwork.

For them, the distress vanishes

with the pain.

There is no dread of the next time,

and the next time,

and the prospect

of no next time.

Then come the teens, like mine,

who do their best to look cool

(in spite of their baldness and frailty)

and ignore each other

as they pace the halls,

ravaged

both by chemo

and the knowledge

of exactly

what they’re up against.

Around come the volunteer

who performs magic tricks

and the chirpy homework helper,

who offer my child

no solace at all.

Moment of Truth

The day has come.

After one major surgery,

seven cycles of chemo,

31 radiation treatments,

and 49 days in the hospital,

the moment of truth.

Has that terrible price

been enough?

Clean scans!

Listen to the nurses cheer.

Grinning, they shout,

here is the bell,

come ring it!

Here is the giant cookie

of congratulations.

Here, here, here

is the gift

of the rest

of your life.

Ready to Fly

A year ago you were in the ICU.

Now you’re visiting colleges.

Colorado or New York?

You crave an adventure

far from the home

where you spent

too much unplanned time.

My heart swells with pride

that you have the courage

to voyage out and start anew.

Yet my heart also contracts

with fear.

At 15,

you suddenly became

like a toddler again,

as for months

I monitored every aspect

of your being:

weight, temperature,

blood pressure, calories,

fluids in, fluids out.

Always just

an arm’s reach away.

Once cancer treatment ended,

you snapped right back

to your adolescent self,

racing to rejoin your friends,

as I stood by

suddenly empty-handed.

Now your limitless future beckons,

a prospect that once seemed

impossible.

Fly, Eli, fly!

If only I can bear

to let go

of your wings.

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