Disclaimer: Information presented in LungPedia™ is not intended as a substitute for the advice given by your health care provider. Although this patient resource website and document LungPedia™ strives to present only accurate information, readers should not consider it as professional advice, which can only be given by a health care provider. As all content is anecdotal in nature and based upon personal experiences its author, editors, contributors and its agents shall not be held responsible or in any way liable for the continued currency of the information or for any errors, omissions or inaccuracies in this publication or for any consequences arising there from. LungPedia’s author, editors, contributors and its agents make no representations or warranties, whether expressed or implied, as to the accuracy, completeness or timeliness of this information or the results to be obtained from using the information. LungPedia’s author, editors, contributors and its agents are not engaged in rendering medical or other professional services. If medical or other expert assistance is required the services of a competent professional person should be sought. The publication of advertisement, whether paid or not, are not an endorsement. The contents of LungPedia™ is protected by copyright. The contents of this website may not be reproduced or distributed without the express written permission of the author. LungPedia is a service mark of Elizabeth Lacasia. © 2015 Elizabeth Lacasia
If you found this website useful, please share it with others.

LungPedia©2015. Website© 2015 Elizabeth Lacasia. Website created with Wix.com

A Bit of Fun...

"Laughter is the best medicine..."

Disassembled By Cancer ©

 

Okay, so the Oncologist tells me I have lung cancer. POW!! …out comes the lower left lobe of my lung.  The Thoracic Surgeon says “you’re young and strong, you won’t even miss it.”   Two years later, SNICK!! …another portion of my lung disappears as a wedge resection reveals the cancer has spread throughout my lungs.  Then I’m told chemotherapy is my only option for waging this battle. BLAM!! ...menopause and all of its insults descend upon my beleaguered body as chemotherapy takes its first bite. ZZZZTT!! …my nerves are sizzled as chemotherapy also deadens my sense of touch and replaces it with a low level of burning pain with its second bite.

 

Hey, wait a minute, I thought I was “Batgirl” poised to take on and vanquish the evil-doer “Cancer” attacking my innocent but invincible body? Now I walk the path of life adorned in my handy utility belt replete with duct tape, stickpins at the ready to retrieve and salvage whatever else might fall off.

 

I realize the weapon I have been handed is a double edged sword; poisoning the cancer is also poisoning my cherished home. Recently, I feel I am more like Monty Python’s “Knight of Nee” ineptly defending the crossroads and decrying after each limb is severed “it’s merely a flesh wound, come back here and fight.”

 

I hear a CLUNK!!… glance behind me, “hey, I need that,” turn aside, carefully pick up another part of myself and lovingly duct tape it back into place. I put off for another day deciding whether the “cure” is worse than the disease. I slide my sword back into its scabbard and continue down the path savoring every moment of my existence.

 

© 2015 Elizabeth Lacasia, written in 2009  (I wrote this poem in the midst of treatment with a cocktail of several traditional chemotherapies.) No portion of this website may be reproduced or distributed without the express written permission of Elizabeth Lacasia.

Living With Cancer Is an Uneasy Truce©

 

Living with cancer is an uneasy truce. There is never a complete peace, instead the niggling worry is always there, “what if it comes back?” Perhaps living with cancer is like being pregnant but the entity that shares my body is malevolent. It’s ever present, just under the level of consciousness, peering into what I do and sapping a bit of the easy joys that twinkle in everyday life. Perhaps it perches on my shoulder, now it’s not just me when I go out to have fun with friends, its “me” and “Cancer.” Talk about a wet blanket to squelch a bit of spontaneous fun…

 

Maybe Cancer is an adornment wrapped around my neck like an old fashioned fur stole, now a part of my ensemble but the style is slightly off, no longer PC. It takes stalwart friends to look beyond this frightening presence, look into my eyes and see “me.” My spontaneity and irrepressible sense of humor have left me, my sparkle being doused in a downpour from the small thundercloud following in my wake.

 

I’m not really a “Survivor” as surviving connotes something in the past, scars healed, resolution at a cost obtained. But resolution does not seem to be my fate. Instead, my fate is one of being suspended in a way, more one of soldiering on…

 

I want my cheeky irreverence back, my sparkling eyes, my subtle wit, my full throated laugh. I’m no longer the one who triggers a chuckle from a group of friends and it’s not something you can fake. Let’s face it, it’s a bummer having Cancer at a party. No one invited him but there he sits, looking at me with glowering eyes and eating all of the cake.

 

© 2015 Elizabeth Lacasia, written in 2013. No portion of this website may be reproduced or distributed without the express written permission of Elizabeth Lacasia.