Time Shifts Slowly

A matter of routine.

The days morph into weeks.

One week down already.

A long and slow descent.

As my cells die slowly.


Within this room I lie.

With four familiar walls.

Shuttered window viewpoint.

On Autumn world outside.

It’s a limited life.


Here in isolation.

Yet not alone at all.

Friends and family wishes.

Come in from near and far.

Power of social media.


The chemo makes its mark.

Kills  bad and good alike.

Healthy blood cells perish.

Along with Myeloma.

Veins of  mass destruction.


As kidney soldiers on

Crippled but defiant.

Stem cell saviours enter.

Migrate from blood to bone.

To sit and wait and grow.


It’s a time of waiting.

As time shifts slowly by.

The body won’t be rushed now.

The battle rages on.

Death to the bone breaker.


As blood counts drop and drop.

Throat and gut get sorer.

Trips to bathroom greater.

Feel a little tireder.

Carry on regardless.


What still lies before me.

Only God, now knows it.

So far feel protected.

From the worst excesses.

Prayers from friends so welcome.

8 thoughts on “Time Shifts Slowly

      1. Oh I do so realise that you’re not feeling sorry for yourself, though you would have every right. I think I worded that message badly. In my experience cancer sufferers don’t feel sorry for themselves. You take everything on the chin and with a joke and a smile.

        I meant that I was sorry that you have this awful illness, because without it you wouldn’t have felt the need the write the beautiful poem.

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