Combatting Cancer with Kindness

Elaine Sorrentino

 

 
Elaine Sorrentino at Pink Lemonade presentation

By Elaine Sorrentino

 I was diagnosed with breast cancer in October 2006 and again in October 2019.  I've started dreading the month of October.  I've written a number of poems to help me process what it's been like navigating cancer. Fellow breast cancer survivor/poet Dzvinia Orlowsky and I collaborated to create a program called Pink LemonAid which presents breast cancer-inspired art, mostly poetry and prose, but music as well.  It was ironic that two days after the first presentation of this program, I was diagnosed again.  October of 2026, we'll present our next Pink LemonAid.  Proceeds from books sold at the event will help women needing transportation to chemo.  We've both been there and have experienced kindness from the most surprising places.

These poems show my journey:


Who Doesn’t Love Positive?

They said
be more positive
you’ll be happier
you’ll live longer
you’ll have more friends
you’ll be more successful, confident
you’ll lower your risk of disease
you’ll age slower, more gracefully
you’ll reduce your chances of depression
you’ll inspire others to be more positive.
So, I embraced positive,
became the epitome of positive,
simply oozed positive¬−
as did my cancer biopsy,
my world altered forever by positive,
betraying me the moment
positive became something…different.
This new positive produced 
a scarred and dimpled gland
burnt, useless, wire-like veins
two different cup sizes
unwanted tattoos in intimate places
rejected “organ donor” status
blood now worthless to anyone.
Yet, beyond physical changes,
what made my upbeat heart weep
were glances tinged with unwelcome pity,
and yearly reminders that I could be positive again.


Searching for a Lifeboat 
            during treatment
 
I am the wonder ball
the hot potato 
the short straw
 
as desirable 
as a bruised apple
in a fruit basket,
 
no one volunteers to steer
the ship of my wellbeing,
instead, the medical crew
 
references paragraph three
where it says this is the least 
to which they're obligated;
 
no longer their concern
I am passed on to the next port,
island-hopping for health care.


Buzz off the Buzz Off

Put the razor down.
Ask yourself
Why am I doing this?
If your undertaking is for me,
don’t waste your time;
your gesture,
intended as supportive,
only serves to hurl
me into melancholy
You are my mirror,
my support, my rock,
and your follicle-free
scalp reminds me
of my grueling struggle.
Keep your full head
of hair, and remind me
instead, of my reward
at the end of my journey.
First published in The Writer's Newsletter, 


Alternate Hair
           
It didn’t matter who knew.
I wasn’t attempting to hide my truth.
 
This bouncy, brown, easy-to-wear mop
preserved my freedom to buy groceries
 
without cruel whispers
look at the lady in the cereal aisle

her dome’s smooth as honeydew in produce,
it allowed me it to cling to a smidgeon
 
of normalcy in a stretch
that felt like daily ransacking;
 
scalp enhancement staved off
pity, questioning stares; this patient
 
embraced dinner out with her sweetie,
tossed aside needles and scalpels
 
to step back into the world of the living,
savoring a moment of sweet vanity.

First published in Verse Virtual

 

Uninvited

Cancer comes knocking
once every thirteen years,
and I say no, thank you,
but it heaves itself
into my body anyway
refusing to leave
until I escort it to the exit,
thrust it into the dark,
and nail that door shut.
Don’t come scratching again.


Eye for an Eye
            post radiation
 
After I silently counted
the last “six Mississippi”
under the linear accelerator,
lowered my arms
and rolled off the table,
the technician tossed
a fistful of confetti in the air
and handed me a certificate
of completion.
 
In private that night
after unwrapping
that tender breast
itchy and inflamed,
soothing it with salve,
I folded the beige parchment
once, then once again,
knelt before the fireplace,
threw open the flue,
and struck a match.

First published on The Keeping Room, Minerva Rising


Two Views

cancer
maintenance
drugs
stole
my eyebrows,
thinned
my hair,
weakened
my bones
cancer
maintenance
drugs
lengthened
my life,
restored
my hope,
permitted
more time
to nag
my kids