Pat’s Cracked Cup: Finding Poetry In The Myeloma Experience
Poetry touches the personal and the universal. Other people’s experiences remind me of my own, and the written word offers personal nourishment that often speaks to the truth of the multiple myeloma experience.
Awaiting the blossoms and sun of springtime, I came upon a small consoling poem by the Buddhist sage, Huang Po:
“Without undergoing a winter that bites into your bones, how can the plum blossoms regale you with their piercing fragrance?”
And so it is for people living with myeloma.
The Pulitzer Prize was recently awarded to Siddhartha Mukherjee for his book, The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer. This story explores how curious scientists and doctors have investigated the disease through the centuries and collaborated with courageous patients to find treatments.
A medical degree is not required to read Dr. Mukherjee’s story about the ongoing tireless efforts to develop pharmaceuticals to interfere with the cancer cell’s processes and pathways. The hefty non-fiction publication is a saga, a thriller, and a mystery—with a bit of poetry tossed into the tale.
At the heart of each unique expression of cancer is a tendency for the cells to break away in some kind of terrible rebellion. Dr. Mukherjee calls the clever cancer cell a “desperate individualist,” constantly replicating and evolving.
He emphasizes that a world taken over by cancer is “reflected endlessly like a hall of mirrors” and concludes that cancer has become the “new normal” of our times. The question is no longer “if” we get it, but “when?” Having already received my diagnosis is oddly comforting when considering this disheartening news.
The book mentions myeloma only briefly, but it is a fascinating read and a helpful overview of cancer as a multitude of individually unique cases. Even within the world of myeloma diagnosis and treatment, I am learning how varied the disease can be from one person to another.
Dr. Mukherjee’s inclusion of vivid quotes from literature adds hopefulness and beauty to an otherwise difficult subject.
The poet Jason Shindler wrote, “Cancer is a tremendous opportunity to have your face pressed right up against the glass of your mortality.” The powerful image is one many of us can relate to.
“Survivors look back and see omens, messages they missed,” commented author Joan Didion.
This makes me recall one Sunday a few weeks before I was diagnosed with myeloma. I was driving along and discovered that all the buttons of my car radio had been mysteriously tuned into a public radio station running a talk by the 20th century mythologist, Joseph Campbell. Every button I pushed was saying the same thing:
“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” Myeloma was one of those things waiting for me that I was not planning on. Years later now, the poetry of that moment continues to unfold.
“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash,” wrote poet-singer-songwriter, Leonard Cohen.
Living with myeloma is about keeping your life burning.
Pat Pendleton is a multiple myeloma patient and columnist at The Myeloma Beacon. You can view a list of her columns here.
If you are interested in writing a regular column to be published on The Myeloma Beacon, please contact the Beacon team at .
Very nice Pat. Art is good for the soul, in all it's forms, whether partaking in it as a spectator or immersing oneself in the creation of it.
Love the J. Campbell episode! I think that would sit with me for a lifetime for sure! Life's wonderful mysteries.
How appropriate to write about poetry during National Poetry month!
On my blog, I have been posting a poem (of my own) a day for the month of April. Recently I wrote:
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Something else has occurred to me: I don't write poetry about cancer or about living with cancer. I am hardly silent about cancer...I write regularly about the disease that took up permanent residency in my body six and a half years ago. But with the exception of one haiku I dashed off this month in response to the Haiku-ca-choo! challenge to write a riddle, there is nothing in cancer or my life with it that would move me to poetry.
[Oh, I know, you are all wondering about my haiku. Remember, we were supposed to write a riddle.
Little turncoat! What
made you switch your allegiance?
Power? You rogue you.
The first two guesses were Arlen Specter and Joe Liberman, both of which were perfectly appropriate depending on your politics, and both of which just cracked me up. My answer, not nearly as good, was my bone marrow.]
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I love poetry. But I don't ever see me writing poems to my myeloma!
Thanks Pat, for Lotus in the Fire, The Healing Power of Zen - another account of life with cancer. I'm still trying to figure out what this experience means to me. I feel banged and bruised but grateful for almost every moment.
Your writing is lovely and your quotations are precious.
Trudy
Elegantly put, Pat. In all this madness of therapy drugs & not knowing what happens next, the universe has a way of sending little gifts each day, sometimes so quietly we almost miss them, and this is the poetry we must watch for in order to live deeply. Suzanne
Thanks Lori...and thank you also to April for the reminder that I was in sync with Poetry Month--forgot about that.
Trudy...glad you mention Lotus in the Fire--there are so many good books related to the cancer experience.
Yes, Suzane...the little gifts are easy to miss---thanks for reading.
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