As I first began the several rounds of chemotherapy for multiple myeloma back in December of 2008, I decided to help combat the effects of chemo brain by working on word and number puzzles and by scribbling my thoughts down into a journal.

Did it work? I don’t know, but it helped to keep my mind occupied and away from the encroaching sadness of fighting cancer far away from my home and my kids as the holidays approached.

One of the exercises that I enjoyed most was writing short forms of Japanese poetry called haiku and senryu – in English, of course. Trust me; it’s not as highfalutin as it sounds. Grade school students do it.

Haiku normally focuses on nature for its topics, and senryu deals with people and their situations in life.

Both simple forms consist of only three lines with the first line containing five syllables, the second line seven syllables, and the third line five syllables. Each poem has 17 syllables in total. They don’t have to rhyme and they can be serious, poignant, humorous, or silly, whatever you want. They are fairly easy to write and can be quite therapeutic.

Now in the best of times I am far from being a good poet – and, yes, I know it! – but myeloma didn’t stop me from trying my hand at it. Following are some examples of my myeloma-flavored senryu. It helps to be a multiple myeloma insider to fully grasp some of them:

It is true that I
Am an impatient patient
We need a cure NOW

Myelomaville
The folks are nice, but it is
So expensive there

My pesky backache
Turned out to be so much worse
I want my life back

Dexamethasone
Yes it keeps me up all hours
But the house is CLEAN!

Monoclonal what?
Plasma B cell cancer, huh?
Speak my language, please!

Collapsed vertebrae
After three kyphoplasties
I can walk again!

What would you do Doc?
Let’s pretend that I’m your dad
Transplant: Yes or No?

Blood clots are quite rude
They vacation in my lungs
I must evict them

Dad, you look good bald
Maybe not good, but okay
Do you have a hat?

IgG is high
Sing those Myeloma Blues
Kappa light chains, too

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! BEEP!
Gonna’ throw this chemo pump
The nurse foils my crime

More than caregiver
She and God KNOW my struggles
Brave when I am not

For once and for all
I don’t have MELANOMA
YOU have hearing loss

The definition
Of a most noble calling
Lives in one word: Nurse

She looks up at me
And asks ‘Daddy, will you die?’
I squeeze back my tears

M. V. D. T. PACE
My chemo alphabet friends
I love AND hate you

Dear myeloma:
Fever, nausea, and pain
Bad birthday gifts, dude

We met in chemo
‘Are we having fun?’ you laughed
And now you are gone

Waiting for results
They say no news is good news
‘They’ don’t have a clue

I heard Karen cry
When she was out in the hall
Please give her peace, Lord

For me it’s quite odd
To not have an appetite
Chemo trumps pizza

Central Venous Line
A fancy-shmancy necktie
That you hate to wear

Stem Cell Transplant Club
The dues are extremely high
And you smell like corn

Okay, I have to stop you here. I want to explain this one. During and after the stem cell transplant, dimethyl sulfoxide (DMSO), the chemical preserving agent in which stem cells are stored, may cause the patient’s body to smell like canned corn or corn chips or something similar. My wife could smell it on me for a couple of days, but I could not. Weird - yes? Sorry for the interruption.

I miss talking with
The Revlimid surveyor
Tell her I said ‘Hi’

Why did I do it?
It used to be the Devil
Now I blame the dex

Daddy, I’m worried
You’ll be in Little Rock, right?
Can Santa find you?

I could go on, but I won’t. Writing these kinds of poems truly is a worthwhile creative pursuit. I would love to read some of your efforts. Remember: 5-7-5! Give it a shot!

Seven years have flown
So grateful to still be here
Even on bad days

My wish for us all
Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men
May we find a cure!