It sucks to have it, it sucks to succumb to it, it sucks to know and love someone who has it, it sucks to watch someone deal with it, it sucks to think that it might win, and it sucks because we still have no clue whatsoever what makes otherwise healthy tissue regenerate out of control.
To some people it is a death sentence, and yet to others, it is a call to arms, a challenge to be met and taken, and a way to get closer to the Divine.
I have a friend - well, not even a friend really, a digital acquaintance, someone who write words I like to read, and returns the favor more often than not, and she is dealing with this insidious disease. And despite the cure being as bad as the sickness, and despite the anguish or the fears, she keeps on, as strong and funny and solid as ever. She is quite special.
And very ordinary.
This poem is for her.
More Than My Parts
I rejoice in my life for its own sake.
I am no mere candle, but a torch on fire.
Every moment of life I fully partake,
And I always strive to grow a bit higher.
The harder I work, the more I live.
I am more than the sum of my many parts.
I have so much joy and love to give,
That can never be read on some doctor's charts
I am more than a smile, a hairdo, a breast;
I am greater than mere physical things.
I have been by my Creator blessed
With a soul that gives my spirit wings.
I have a heart, so true, so loving and full,
I have a backbone, stronger than steel.
There are my hands, able to push and pull,
That can comfort and allow me to feel.
I have eyes that have seen the best of this world,
I have a voice that rings clear and true....
The rest of the poem is here: