My Body is a Battleground (My Journey of Ovarian Surgeries)

While this is primarily a book review blog, I occasionally share my poems here as well. My poetry is how I process the things that happen to me. This one is inspired by the nightmare that began three and a half years ago.

In fall of 2020, I had two surgeries after the discovery of a serous borderline tumor on my ovary. The result was the loss of my left ovary and visits to the oncologist every three to six months.

Now, I'm headed into my third ovarian surgery next month after it was found that the cyst on my remaining ovary has grown and developed nodules that are suspicious for malignancy.

I'm endlessly grateful to my oncologist and even to that first ovarian cyst that sent me to surgery in 2020. Ovarian cancer is called the silent killer but because of that original cyst and what it helped find I will always be closely monitored.

Even still, surgery is no small matter. I am only thirty one and if I end up losing my last ovary I will go into early menopause. Dealing with this has been one of the most isolating experiences of my life. While my family can love and support me they cannot truly understand the fear of living your life while something evil is growing inside of your body without you being aware.

I will face this surgery the way I have previous ones; with a combination of anxiety but also a righteous fury at these growths that chose the wrong body to inhabit.

My Body is a Battleground

This insidious seed

took root inside of me again.

My body became its poisoned garden

but I’m going to rip it out

with my own two bare hands.

 

My body has become a battleground

and I’m already one solider down.

I’m screaming into the wind

“I’m can’t do this again!”

but I was drafted anyway.

So, I’ll put my armor back on

and ride onto the field on my warhorse

ready to win the second war.

 

This is one book I put down.

I never planned to finish it.

I related too much to the protagonist.

So, I threw the pages in a fire

and watched as the paper curled and blackened

because I decide the ending this time.

 

This whispering monster

made a home inside my closet.

He thinks he can eat me alive,

but the joke is on him

because I’ve got sharper teeth

and a bigger appetite

and I eat monsters for breakfast.