Trish Broome

Corner Room in a Pueblo, Colorado Hospital

half-smiles to the “old retired Vietnam vet”

whose service to this country they truly appreciated.

I couldn’t sleep, so I’d often catch myself

sitting upright in your bed, sipping water

with a straw. Styrofoam cup slightly shaking.

of the cheap hospital chair where I had learned

For three nights straight because I couldn’t leave your side.

Except for the machines breathing for you.

Or the crunching of ice as I fed you with a plastic spoon

because that’s all your body could consume.

Dad, I wish my hand could transfer the cancer

After, I slowly walked down the hospital hallway.

This was the first I had been back to Colorado since

This time, the nurses smiled as they held back tears.

I wrote this after watching my father pass away from stage 4 lung cancer. We had reconciled our broken relationship just a few years earlier, and in 2015, I had his first and only grandchild. He called me in July 2016 and said he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. Within four weeks, I was in a hospital saying goodbye.

This post was written and submitted by Trish Broome. The article reflects the views of Broome and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to 

subscribe to CURE®’s newsletters here.

Articles

I wrote this heart-felt poem after watching my father pass away from stage 4 lung cancer.

Trish Broome

Corner Room in a Pueblo, Colorado Cancer Hospital

Latest News