I’m Malignant

So helplessly on a hospital bed best friend lay,

The only connection between her and life-the IV

Before the twilight of this lay it’s only right that I say

That best friend’s first name was Ivy.

Perhaps it’s not coincidental that even Dennis is a dentist.

So there she lay, silent as the graveyard that was in the offing.

Often times the doctor placed a stethoscope on her chest

and the placid expression on doc’s face had me thinking she was just taking a rest.

Though the ER seemed strange with all the dummies of breasts.

“Jeeze! what’s with all the dummies of breasts?”

I whispered to myself, rendering the window pane moist.

The clock at the bay  hit the God-hour, paving way for visitors,

So I took stride and stride towards the door

then I was before the doc’s eyes.

The dark side of this anecdote

is that all the antidotes were in futility.

So when he asked “Are you religious son?”

“I am prayerful”, came my answer.

He said “Good, because it doesn’t look so good”.

“And in your prayers, I hope your words aren’t always self-centered,

because in summary,”

he proceeded “your friend’s about to succumb to cancer of the mammary”

 

In retrospect, I perhaps was one of the malignant cells.

“Will you accompany me to the gym?” she once asked.

“No, come help me finish composing this hymn” rushed out my response.

“Besides, it’s like taking coal to new castle ’cause to me you’re already slim”

I kept on.

“Hey, will you walk me three and a half kilometers to the supermarket?”

I remember her ask.

“No, a ride will be faster than a bullet out a musket”

Out snuck my answer.

“Best friend, I have this craving for veggies, cereals and…whole foods”

She said once.

“No, let’s stick to the usual soft drinks and burgers, don’t have time to cook”

That was me answering.

“Hey don’t you think we should cut down on the booze?”

She suggested a few years ago

“No! No! No way!, It’s a cold world and at the bottom of each bottle lies warmth”

I replied.

“Hey, I’ve had my first born son, breast or bottle feed, which one is tick?”

She bubbly said, little Brian gently held in her arms.

“Lest you want saggy tits, feed him with the bottle”

There came my answer.

“Hey…aammh, my mammogram reveals that it’s a positive”

She recently told me with tears rolling down her cheeks.

It’s only then that the proverbial prevention is better than cure hit me.

Ever since then, I’d rather my recipe be not so tasty,

Than not so healthy.

I’d rather get tipsy than drunk, but I hope to mingle with sobriety.

My heart bleeds to all victims of breast cancer.

But it’s never over until it’s over.

Even Angelina is still Jolly after the double mastectomy.

Each one must teach one how to live a healthy life.

In summary, friends should hardly succumb to cancer of the mammary.