As our bodies get older
We start to move slower
Things don’t work as well
A tickle in the throat
The doctor gives you a note
A battery of tests and tubes to follow
You go through the motions
You wish there was a potion
For the uncertainty to be gone in a swallow
But your worst fear is confirmed
You have the big “C”
And they want you to be butchered
They said your chances are slim
Only at 20 percent
If you only get it treated
You looked in their eyes
and said “I’ll will take my 20%”
They shook their heads in disappointment
You knew all along
This was only a hurdle
But the scariest one of all
The tests were grueling
The affects were staggering
Your hair and pounds had shed
Your strength and spirit
Held strong through it all
Not willing to give up just yet
3 years have past, the Big “C” is no more
And you know you will see
Your grandkids son’s and daughters
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem