People ask how I’m doing—“Oh, how do you feel?” And I ponder and fumble, unsure what’s real. Should I quote the old doc with his charts and his tests, Though he shrugs just as much as some of the guests? Or should I gaze into my old crystal ball? It’s so foggy and fuzzy. No help there at all. So here’s what I say, and I hope it makes sense: “I’m loving each moment. No need for pretense.” I’m waiting to see what God’s planning to do. It’s wild. It’s unknown. But it’s wondrous and true.” By words, ways, and means, I march right along, With chemo and caffeine—my fuel to stay strong. Add stubbornness too. It’s a powerful thing, I can laugh and sing for it must be spring. My hair took a trip. Left a note? Not a trace. My taste buds rebelled. They’ve abandoned their place. My energy naps more than turtles in June, Yet I hum my own song with a half-crazy tune. So ask how I’m doing? I’ll say with a beam: “I’m weirdly unstoppable—just living God’s dream.” Am I boring you yet? Oh, I surely hope not, But I’ve got a new look that I like quite a lot. See, I’ve never worn hats—not in spring, fall, or June, But now I wear more than the Man in the Moon. With no hair on my head and no love for the shine, I grabbed a flat cap and said, “This one is mine.” I wore it for weeks, felt quite dapper and neat, But then I thought, “I could dance a new beat.” A Bavarian hat from friends far away, From Germany’s hills where the yodelers play. Next came a Bowler—so British and bold, Till I opened my mouth … and my cover was told. My Southern drawl came out plain as day, And the Bowler just blushed and shuffled away. Now I’m hooked, I confess. Hats are really quite fun. A Fedora? Safari? Or a Panama one? But no—wait! What’s that? It’s rugged, not vexed. A Boonie hat, yes! That’s the one I’ll try next. Just one more infusion—yes, chemo once more, Then a PET scan to see what might be in store. We’ll check where we are and what’s next on the track, Then onward we go. No time to look back. There’s still that old prostate. It’s fussing a bit, But compared to the rest, it’s just a small fit. No big deal, I say, with a confident grin, Cause I know who’s winning the fight that I’m in. It’s all in God’s hands. Yes, that much is true, And if he’s in command, I’m sure to pull through.
