The Garden Worm For Dessert

January 16, 2018
By gghambrick18 BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
gghambrick18 BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

A bleak and blustery day; a day like no other.
Options so limitless,
it’s a wonder how anyone decides; simple, but neverending,
the menu presented each delight.
Chemotherapy, Immunotherapy, Radiation, Surgery
and for dessert Adjuvant Therapy.
Shattering and wrecking Cancer came through
It’s latest victim: my family.
Torturing everything in its path,
as the Cancer did to my Leukocytes.
Leaving me defenseless-
like a soldier ready for battle with no gun.
The fresh tomato salad let off an aroma of despair.
Mahogany wood laden with bodies
gawking gawking at the supper
The dark cloud of Cachexia loomed
hindering the appetite of not only me, but my family.
With a piercing sound that shattered the silence
Hunter stabbed the round, juicy, cherry tomato
freshly picked from our family garden.
Observing, pondering, inspecting each nook and cranny,
like the Biopsy did my tissue.
Similar to my Oncologist, discovered
something so miniscule you almost needed a Microscope.
A garden worm as red as the devil
arose from the flesh.
Small but Dangerous
inching his way towards the belly of the beast
closer and closer to the Heart of the tomato.
Propelling the disgrace across the room,
disgust swarmed his spirit.
“It’s ruined! The whole thing!”
My daughter appalled, called for a fair trial.
“How dare you dispose of a perfectly fine tomato?”
I overlooked the abundance of dilapidation.
Not  worthless nor diminished,
in dire need of help and hope;
My cells suffered the same hell.
In unison,
we all began to eat.
Regaining our appetite,
we all began to help.
Our plates vacant of food, the Tumor regressed.
The course continued on,
we all began dessert.
The fudge prevailed
countering the odds and summiting.
Resulting in a mountain of chocolate magic,
we all began to rejoice.
Anti- angiogenesis of ice cream,
the fudge cutting off the Cancer to my bloodstream.
The chocolate fudge sundaes weren’t healthy,
but now I was.
The aroma of despair fled the kitchen,
hope, graciousness, and blessings rained
Every Christmas since, tomato salad.
Rain hit the kitchen window
No longer a beating war drum,
But a soothing tune.



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