September 1, 2004

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  “The Cancerboy Dairies: Entry the 1st”
  poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  June 12, 2004 8:24 a.m. pdt ©MFNyiri 2004

  You didn’t listen too well perhaps
  But you always have been a stubborn sort
  I said I knew what you were bringing to the party
  But I was wrong as usual
  We’ve been “together” now for nearly a decade
  And the ball in your colon
  Had been “together” with you all that time too
  Now it is gone
  Your bad habits disappeared for a while suddenly
  But then re-appeared on the horizon of hellishness

  
  

  I wrote a poem about you
  But you don’t like poetry
  So you won’t read it
  I cursed you with tourettelike abandon
  in the hours when you slept unawares

  
  

  I come home to your drunkenness
  And lazy abandonment too often
  And now the recuperation period
  stays you here for what seems like an eternity

  
  

  And eternity for you is not a given, is it?
  You didn’t listen too well perhaps
  When the solemn men in white coats diagnosed
  and the prognosis was denial in a diatribe

  
  

  Now two therapies later
  Nothing seems to have changed
  Nothing bothers you too much
  The TV still blares into my room at night
  The bottles still pile up on the
  sideboard by the sink
  The smoke still chokes me as it has for years

  
  

  We haven’t changed
  The bastard tykes in the project
  still think we’re queerguys
  We still ignore and berate and yell and scream
  And thanks for the hug that was sweet

  
  

  We’re on a precipice toghether
  But you are the only one in danger of falling
  We’re living a shared existence
  But you are the only one who might see it end soon
  We’re like a couple of grannies with poor eyesight
  Who can’t see the truth as it parades before us
  We’re news junkies without a clue
  Responding to bellicose tirades and
  Uncertain soliliquies as if we understand
  Our differences.

  
  

  I say too often that I hate you old fool
  And you keep talking to the cats
  Everything is a comedy except the eventual outcome
  And I shall be hopeful that these entries
  Number many many numerals,
  As the cancer stops it’s course
  And as the therapy poisons
  And as we renew the bonds
  Which made me say I knew what you were bringing to the party
  In the first place.
  

  
  

   

  
  

  “The Cancerboy Dairies: Entry the 2nd”
  poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  August 31, 2004 8:41 p.m. pdt ©MFNyiri 2004

  
  

   

  
  

  The sickness still hasn’t happened yet,
  and it’s what,the ninth treatment?
  I keep telling you you’re the poster boy
  For Chemotherapy
  Nothing seems to upset the apple cart
  And when thousands see their hair fall out
  And spend a good deal of time kneeling by the toilet
  You have come through without a scrape
  And good tidings are born by your disposition.

  
  

  We both thought things were going to be worse now
  Didn’t we?
  But thank the Godhead, the Natural Way,
  The random patterns of existence
  Thank the Lord, Chance, Health, and Kismet’s folly
  You are looking like a winner in a loser’s game
  And I know I can’t be a third as thankful as you are.

  
  

  As the time lapses into uncertain sameness
  As the hours pass unheeded and un-needed
  As the weight of time’s coffin slowly recedes
  You seem to have some time for levity
  For brevity of endless doubts
  And for this I am happy for you
  And I know you are happy for this outcome as well

  
  

  But what is the outcome?
  What is the prognosis several weeks from now?
  Are the drugs and the poison just settling in
  For a long stay?
  And are you ready for the occurrences of time
  On that future day?
  I guess we shall have to wait and see
  And hope for the best possibility 

  
  

   

  
  

  (NOTE: These poems are two in an ongoing series of poems detailing my friend and room-mate’s response to the chemotherapy treatments associated with the removal of his colon cancer in April of this year. I just now wrote the second entry, dated 8/31/04. I wrote the first entry in June. Further entries will be written as inspiration strikes. So far, Joel’s (Cancerboy’s ) battle has not been so bad. The “painting” is nothing more than a photograph “enhanced” in the picture publisher “special effects module” as an oil painting, and then “tweaked” with my digital brush. MFN)

  
  

  EDIT: 9/1/04 8:40 a.m. For anyone wondering about the nickname “cancerboy”, I bestowed this name on my friend Joel shortly after he was diagnosed, and it is used partly in jest, and with his full knowledge that I call him this on the internet. It is a play on my own nickname, “Analboy”. He has a computer now, but doesn’t use it that much. He still hasn’t embraced the internet or computers.

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