I used to count minutes til lunch,
Or sometimes until happy hour.
I used to count days until vacation,
Or time, kids aflowered.
Now, I look at the clock,
Tortured, it stares back at me,
Counting the hours and minutes,
Until the next medicine is free.
Sometimes they go fast,
Sometimes oh, so slow.
Never a rhyme nor a reason,
To predict, undecidedly so.
Sometimes it is relief from nausea,
Sometimes it is relief from pain,
Sometimes it is counting the hours,
Until my chemo drug is taken again.
When not counting the hours,
I am counting the days,
Until my next infusion,
The next battle remains.
For it is all for the good,
All fighting for one,
I pray for an end to the cycle,
I pray for a cure, coming undone.
For I can count hours,
And I can count days,
But life slips through my fingers,
Me on the sideline, sideways.
Hope is my confidante,
Grace holds my peace,
Working towards a balance,
Working to end my disease.