Georgie Porgie…

IMG_1739 - Version 2Georgie Porgie, oh what a mess,

Out of my depth, I have to confess,

Things that would make a small boy cry,

And princess, that’s now passed me by,

When the girls come out to play,

Cover it up and wish it away

My attention span, below the grade,

The jelly belly the chemo made,

The dark days, the stark days,

Bald head for a lark days…

When the girls come out to play,

Cover it up and wish it away

The nurses just don’t talk about,

The bottle where the guck comes out,

A re sculpture across my chest,

Looks amateur to say the best,

When the girls come out to play,

Cover it up and wish it away

The osteo’, the calcium pills,

They blame the dairy (so milk kills!)

The nights are scary, panic thrills,

Can’t eat, can’t beat the hunger chills…

When the girls come out to play,

Cover it up and wish it away

This week I have been asked to think about how people feel who are experiencing cancer and shown literature on never being the same again. I went back to remember my own feelings and the treatment moments that stand out, then I thought how that might sound in a nursery rhyme?

Dum de dum de dum de doo

Dum de dum de dum de day

When the girls come out to play

Cover it up and wish it away

Obsolete…

IMG_1587My chest is obsolete,

The B cup mass a cheat,

The stitching neat,

A tuck, a pleat,

Yet halter tops still sweet…

I know it was just meat,

And cancer’s not a treat,

The boob delete,

Survive, compete,

So am I incomplete?

I entered a competition with this poem, the topic was obsolete and whist the feedback was good, I think the angle was not what had been anticipated.

Reconstruction is always a tricky one, it nearly killed me (a closer call than the cancer actually, twice…) -nothing like a nurse running to theatre with your bed (despite my having just eaten a bowl of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes) to make you glad to be alive!