Recently, I was contacted by one of my facebook followers who is facing Osteosarcoma, the same kind of cancer I “beat.” (Not like we get a choice in getting healthier.) She’s writing a book, and asked me to write a poem about finishing treatment. After a year of chemo and then 15 more years, I find that the emotions are still the same as the day I stepped foot out of the hospital from treatment one last time. The cancer is gone, but so are the options if it were ever to come back. So there’s a lot to feel, and learn, and not a lot of conclusions to make. But I learned, and continue to learn, from what cancer taught me about me. Enjoy!

It has been a year.
Or maybe a hundred.
I look down at my fingers.
How I made it is a wonder.

I can still taste the poison.
That orange death that saved my life.
What does food taste like?
Can I now sleep through the night?

The day I heard “cancer.”
I never thought I’d live.
Some days I felt dead.
Gave more than I could give.

It hurt.
The prodding; poking.
It ached.
Mom and dad’s eyes only looking.

It took my leg.
It taught me to love.
Osteosarcoma.
A battle finally done.

I walked into these doors,
so many times.
Now I walk out,
to meet what I left behind.

The cancer is gone.
I’m 8. Maybe 9.
The days were like nights.
The memories just mine.

So what do I do?
No one knows.
No one knows.
The sting; hm, slowly it goes.

I’m not a little girl.
But I’m not grown up.
I’m something new.
I just don’t know what.

Eyes opened to the future.
But living in the day.
It’s the last day of chemo.
“Hello life,” is to say.

My leg is now plastic.
My veins getting strong.
My sister, she smiles.
But will it stay gone?

Society doesn’t get me,
this little girl who survived.
But I think I know me.
Because I actually didn’t die.

There is a lot to learn.
And I know today I’m free.
For beating the cancer,
taught me to be me.

…because love wins.