Writer, researcher, music lover, cancer survivor with CMMRD ("double" Lynch syndrome)

Tag: thoughts (Page 6 of 6)

A Swedish Cancerversary

Poor me.
Pour me
another.

This summer will be five years since I had my sub total colectomy (bowel removal/intestine eviction). So, essentially that will be five years of being cancer-free. I’d quite like to do something to “celebrate” (as much as you can celebrate once having a life-threatening disease). I googled it to get some ideas and there are a lot of sites about it, apparently it’s called a cancerversary, but that sounds a bit weird. I looked up the exact date of my operation, and it was 27th July 2010. Funnily enough, two days ago me and my parents booked a trip to Gothenburg, Sweden (I’m learning Swedish and can’t wait to go). We’re going on our trip on the 27th. Weird, right?

So that’s kind of a celebration. Though I might not want to mention that to my parents, because, awks. Awkward to talk about what happened full stop, but awkward celebrating me being okay when my brother died of cancer. Is that survivor’s guilt?

I don’t know. Plus it’s occurred to me that any thoughts about celebrating six months in advance could be a bit previous. Like tempting fate. So. That makes me feel scared. So, mixed feelings. Happiness, relief, sorrow, guilt, fear, impatience.

Knowing when to stop writing

It seems I’m still learning the art of knowing when to finish a poem.

You know, instead of trying to cram every idea that pops into my head into that one poem I’m currently working on. Because sometimes I have ideas that sort-of-but-don’t-really fit into one neat piece, and if I try to mash them together they become something that’s not neat at all. I know I don’t edit my poems much, but I do try to give them some kind of finesse. Also someone, somewhere from inside my memory, said something like “If a poem only has three good lines, it should only be three lines long.”

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Glow in the Dark Words

I don’t know why I always gravitate towards writing about negative, unhappy things. I am in a good mood – I am happy, honest! I am in a good place, but I can’t seem to write from this place. When I write it’s only because something has happened to make me think of a darker place – I have nothing to say about happiness. Why?

Glow in the Dark Words

Why must there be suffering before there is art?
I cannot create art from anything else life gives me.

My words glow in the dark –
I can’t find them in bright places
but when I’m in that black place again
they’re everywhere.
It’s like a word-growing field.
The word farm.

I wish I was writing from a different place.
I wish I was writing from the present, but
the feel of my own forearm gives me flashbacks.

In sunshine, the words don’t exist.
In sunshine, I am useless.

This is the kind of thing I used to write when I was 15. I used to write song lyrics while listening to Nickelback and have a whale of a time.

Professor Green

Write what you feel you need to write

Sitting in hospital waiting for my CT scan today, I wondered to myself whether I write too much about one particular thing. Maybe I should write poetry about something else, because it will get boring writing about the same thing all the time and people will get bored of reading it.

But considering I don’t even know if anyone is reading anyway, there’s little point in pandering to an imaginary audience! And if I have to force myself to write about something that I’m not really feeling, it’s not going to be fun, it’s just going to be a chore. Writing is difficult enough sometimes without turning it into a chore. (It’s okay to admit it’s difficult to feel motivated to write sometimes, isn’t it? Yes.)

So scratch that. I think I have to just write what I feel like I need to write. Because writing isn’t just for enjoyment, for developing a craft or for entertaining other people – it’s for self-expression as well. I cant just forbid myself to write about something. So I think I’ll continue to write whatever I want to, until I’ve got everything out of my system and feel like writing about something else. There’s no point in compromising – first and foremost, we should write for ourselves.

A Rap

I found a rap I wrote two years ago! The only rap I’ve ever written, in fact. So I thought I’d edit it and post it here – edit it because it was a bit rough, and post it because even though it was written two years ago I still feel more or less the same. Talk about lack of progress!

The rap is about something that I write about quite a lot – more for my own sanity than for anything else. The extremely short summary is that in 2010 I had my bowel removed due to bowel cancer, and since then I’ve found out that there is something in my family called Lynch syndrome, which is a hereditary condition that makes it more likely that a person will get certain types of cancer at some point in their lives. Cue plenty of screening. On the face of it, reading this potted summary, maybe it sounds like it should be no big deal – I had the offending organ whipped out, everything has been okay since, and the whole genetics situation is being monitored. It’s not that simple. Sometimes – not all the time – it’s really hard to deal with, and I struggle with fear, anxiety, flashbacks, and on top of all that, judging myself for it. I’m trying to work on that last one. So, I write.

I’ve gotten to a point where I’ve been wrestling with whether to shut up and try to forget about it and avoid thinking or talking about it, or to accept that it’s now a part of me and the way I define myself as a person, and be okay with that. I’m trying to do the latter, because it’s going to stay with me whether I like it or not, so better to control it and own it than to make myself feel bad about the way I feel. Yes, I feel like this. Yes, this is me now, and yes, this is how I express it. So here’s the rap:

I’m a little bit more Santa’s grotto than ghetto,
‘Til you see the thoughts in my head I find so hard to let go,
So many feelings I can’t control in my mind’s shadow,
The darkest crevices are reserved for those dark demons
That raise their heads, race out, take over, there’s no freedom
For anything else to enter when everything else is devoured,
All peace of mind eaten even after all this time,
Maybe I exaggerate, maybe I just want people to know,
Maybe if other people think about it too – maybe then I’ll let go. 

It’s taken all this time just to open up and own it,
I’ve had all the encouragement in the world to clam up and not show it,
I don’t know what people think, maybe I should have outgrown it,
But I gotta talk about it cuz I don’t know what else to do with it,
Where I do put this thing, put it in a box, hide it out the way?
I’d just get up and open it, stare at it every day,
Well what would you expect, if you went through what I did?
Would you just pick yourself up, say ok, never mind, or would you hide?
Would you try so desperately to get rid of all these thoughts,
Wear your body out, I don’t know, take up sports?
I don’t punish my body enough for what it did to me,
Get up on the treadmill and sometimes just feel like screaming,
“You did this to me”, these scars, although I learn to love them,
I really wish they were gone, wish they had never come to be,
Wish you had never visited me,
I wasn’t expecting this, one in three but never happening to me,
First you take my brother, if you think you’re gonna take me too you’re wrong,
Rid me of a sibling I’d never even known, never will know, will never understand
All the pain of my family like I’m just an outsider,
Do you remember when – no
He always used to say – no
Shut up, I can’t hear this, all the things they know, I can’t listen to,
So come on and tell me what I’m supposed to do when you try coming for me too,
I just punish myself, punish my body for failing me,
Even though I dig these scars eventually, they make me me,
On second thought, I don’t always mind this, gotta say I’m getting used to it,
Found my cross to bear, sure makes me angry but I’ll take the hit,
Don’t know what I’d do if it happened again, the same I did the first time round,
People say I’ve been so strong and brave, I didn’t let it drive me underground,
But what else do you do? I didn’t do a thing you wouldn’t,
I don’t see what other options there were, I couldn’t
Imagine it going down any other way
I don’t have super human powers, it just ended up this way,
Just by luck, by chance, there’s no fate or destiny,
No miracles or oh, this was all just meant to be,
I’ll take my pride and walk away, take this as a part of me,
Show everyone what I’ve been through and I don’t care who sees,
Maybe it’s attention seeking, maybe I need an outlet,
But since it’s sticking with me I won’t let anyone else forget.

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