Spring brings back lots of memories about my stem cell transplant. I entered the hospital on March 25th, 2022, had my transplant on March 31st, my mother died on April 13th and I was released around April 18th. Needless to say it was a difficult time and each year little things remind me of the experience.
Here’s a poem I wrote the other day as I was sitting on my porch reflecting on how far I’ve come.
No Matter What
I came to this place with hope,
driven out of the city by fear
and overwhelm.
The peace I’d been searching for
was no longer elusive.
It was here.
No matter what.
I left this place filled with hope,
driven to the hospital on an early spring day.
It was raining.
I was scared.
Then, outside the window, a sunset performed an orchestrated dance,
just for me.
The clouds will continue to pass.
No matter what.
I left my prison when blossoms were turning to fruit.
Branches bent and whipped in yet another storm.
I was anxious.
The future felt tenuous.
Like the life of a newborn butterfly,
I’ll emerge from my chrysalis.
No matter what.
I came back here with hope.
It was fall and the colors danced as commanded by the wind.
Hope came back, but so did grief,
and fear.
I watched my mother's ashes descend into the murky water.
Her final resting place.
No matter what.
I stayed as winter’s chilly fingers scratched my skin.
Will I ever be free?
Hope began to elude me like a reluctant lover.
Then snow blanketed all I could see.
A red bird landed on the feeder,
seeking the meal I offered.
No matter what.
I came again to this place with hope.
Driven out of despair by a miracle.
Others weren’t so lucky.
They hit the roadblock of death.
I feel guilty.
How can I hang on to hope when others lost theirs?
Why did I get to live?
No matter what.
I came back to this page with defiance.
I refuse to fail with my second chance.
My movements are like walking through mud,
with my boots full of water.
Restricted by sadness.
And fear.
But open to a tiny sliver of hope.
No matter what.
You’re inspiring and your words and art and you are beautiful.. thank you for sharing yourself ❤️
The way you frame survivor's guilt really resonates… That question 'Why did I get to live?' is one that doesn't get asked enough in writing about illness and recovery. There's something brave about sitting with that discomfort rather than trying to resolve it too quickly. Beautiful🩵