My Tumors: A Poem Inspired By Stevenson’s ‘My Shadow’

I have a little tumor and it lives inside of me.

I didn’t know until the X-ray made it plain to me.

It sends out baby tumors from my heels up to my head;

Metastasis is what they call this deadly kind of spread.

The awful thing about them is the way they like to grow —

Not at all like proper tissues, which is always very slow;

They grow at such a rapid pace while other tissues crawl,

That if I don’t get treated, they will soon engulf me all.

Each morning, very early, when the sun’s rays just arrive,

I start the day with gratitude that I am still alive;

I look inside and say I’m brave and try to banish dread.

I may feel weak, I may be slow, but still I’m not yet dead.

The tumors shoot me painful signals almost every day,

To get relief I know the doctor’s going to find a way

To treat me and attack the tumors so to lift this pall,

And make them all so little that there’s none of them at all.

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

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