The Four Seasons of Having Cancer-Winter

As the extended hours of darkness creep in,
My apparent ray of hope seems even more obscure
A part of me is embarrassed to share with even my closest ones,
That I’m still hung up from what I was apparently cured

But how do I let go of the past,
When triggers surround every aspect of my present & future
Mentions of the disease in movies, TV shows, even my calculus exam,
That asked me to calculate the rate of growth of a malignant tumor

My grades are plummeting, and so is my self-confidence
I’m beginning to feel like an imposter
From academics to appearance to character,
Is there any aspect of me not affected by this malignant cluster?

To top it all the strong winds are damaging my wig,
Threatening to blow off my cover and put an end to this skit
A part of me really wants to get rid of this facade too,
But how do I find the balance between feeling good, & looking it?

I’m feeling as helpless as the Winter Sun,
That’s trying to make its way through the grey clouds and thick fog
I miss the times I was in the hospital, with a clear medical plan of action in sight,
Rather than being stuck with this inexplicable and complex mental clog

I think it’s a thought like that, that really scared me,
I felt ungrateful and like someone who lacks any empathy
Thinking about the millions of others that were not as lucky as me to make it this far,
Is making me realize that I can’t let this emotional tumor consume me

I notice that I’ve been enabling my sadness to a certain degree,
By the smallest of things - like constantly listening to sorrowful music
An active effort to separate myself from this romanticized victim identity,
Is what could actually prove to be therapeutic

So, I took my wig off in front of a college friend for the first time,
The feeling of comfort & relief that flooded me was serene
I’m beginning to turn my gaze from the barren, lifeless trees
To the palms and conifers that, even in the Winter, stand tall & evergreen.