Six years ago,
On the first day of December,
My life flashed before my eyes
Like nothing I can remember.
Things I used to take for granted:
My work, the kids, and my wife,
And even smaller things like morning coffee,
Those things that make up ordinary life.
For months I ignored the dull aching pain,
Till it spread across my pelvis, ribs, and lower back.
And then gave way to such sheer agony,
I felt my body battered and under attack.
My doctor ran the usual tests.
All were normal, but for one.
My PSA was way too high.
More tests were ordered to be run.
Within days, the wellspring of my misery known:
Stage III prostate cancer, which had spread.
In a flash, radiation, surgery, hormone therapy.
Without of course, I’d be dead.
Since that time, a celebration of life is held,
Come rain or shine, each first day of December.
Each year, month, week, and day,
We dearly cherish and prayerfully remember.
Poetic Alchemist 