Support and Coping with Cancer   /   Creative Inspiration

The Diagnosis

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James Lynch
Copyright © James Lynch
Last Modified: November 1, 2001

Copyright © 1998, James Lynch

The year was 1997,
on the 28th of May.
The surgery was finished,
then the news without delay.

My wife was there beside me,
when the doctor came to speak.
Even though I'd just awakened,
I could hear the news was bleak.

Through the blur of pain and drugs,
the doctor's words were clear,
the cancer has the best of you
and death is very near.

The more I regained consciousness,
I remember wanting to know,
if what I heard was really true,
I've only five months left to go?

The bleeding stopped, the sutures held,
it was time to go on home,
but then it struck me, square abreast,
there's much to do, you're not alone.

There was Sarah, Joe, James, and Ray,
my wife, my children and others too,
God, please don't take me, not right now,
for I'm not ready, there's too much to do.

Now with energy lacking,
it was time to set about,
all the business of dying,
much to learn, without a doubt.

Powers of attorney,
the insurance man too,
I signed all the papers,
there's still so much to do.

I remember how painful,
when telling a friend,
of how to help Sarah,
when I came to my end.

And I'll never forget,
how I felt like crying,
after telling my children,
about cancer and dying.

The race for completion,
was just about done,
when I remembered the story,
of another Man's Son.

I looked up to heaven
and tried to hold steady,
as my work was now finished,
I told God I was ready.

There is nothing I can tell you,
to describe the way it feels,
to know that your life's ending,
the abyss is at your heels.

I talked to God and asked Him why,
it was time for me to go.
My diagnosis could be changed,
if You will it, let me know.

The months have passed, I'm still alive.
The doctors have their story.
Mistakes they say were all to blame,
but I know He deserves the glory.

My cancer's cured and life goes on,
it was not my time to go.
Is there something left for me to do?
If You will it, let me know.

by James Lynch, jelynch@thegrid.net