The Fight

Waiting for death
Is like any other day
There is nothing special
Nothing sacred about it

Bored watching the telly
Bored eating your food
Bored with life
Bored with death

Smiling at your dogs
Smiling to your wife
Smiling at life
Smiling at your death

Pensive about the world
Pensive about the news
Reflecting your life
Pondering your demise

Laughing with your cats
Laughing out loud
Laughing at life
Laughing at dead

I never thought
It would be that easy
Days just floating by
Days just being here

You don’t even have to hide
You don’t need to pretend
Time just keeps on coming
Minute after minute
Hour after hour

No matter how many days
No matter how many weeks
No matter how many months
May still come your way

There is nothing special
Nothing sacred about it

Halve a century isn't that bad
Considering the pitfalls on the way

I didn't die in one of the many wars
I wasn't beaten to death in some alley
Floods, earthquakes, volcano's
Hurricanes, tsunamis, you name it
They never ever touched my life

You won't find me in the statistics
Of the millions of fatal traffic accidents
Nor was I the victim of the disastrous
Consequences alcohol or drugs can have

So many things I escaped

Like being born in famine
Or under a dictatorial regime
Or in an orthodox Islamic state
Or with violent, confused parents
Nor was I born mentally handicapped
Or in a family too poor to contemplate

Yeah, like many others here
I have nothing to complain about

But what about the next 50 years

Here are some of the things
I might miss
I guess

Religious wars on a scale
That will make the apocalypse
Look like a Sunday picnic

A planet out of ecological balance
Showing natures total indifference
To men's pathetic cries for help

A world where less and less people
Know more and more and being
Attacked by the many who know nothing
But the indoctrination of the chosen ones
Who proclaim to possess a divine truth

I have been very lucky indeed
And while my light is dimming
I have to confess
I feel lucky once more

I stopped
Counting in years and months
After today
I’ll have to count in months and weeks

The chemo didn’t work
My cancer has grown
And spread out again
Despite the treatment
Not much chance
Of stopping it now

So it was dark news
I had to tell my sister
I had to tell my brother
I had to tell my friends
And here
I’ll have to tell you

We all have a sell-by date
Mine seems to be
Fast approaching

But until then
I’ll keep you updated

And I’m very thankful
For all well wishes
They always make my day
Be they religious or not

Maybe the one good thing
That will come out of stopping
The chemo therapy
Is that I won’t be tired anymore
That I will be able again
To create
To give something back
To all you beautiful people
Out there

I’m an atheist
So I’ll continue
To live my life
As the only one
I will ever have
And recognize
A beautiful day
As a beautiful day
And cherish them

As I stepped outside
Into the sunlight again
It dawned on me

It’s accept, adapt and survive
As it’s always has been

I already had the taste of poison
In the back of my mouth
But it tasted familiar, almost
Friendly

Its like losing an arm or a leg
You still feel like they’re yours
Though you won’t jump that far
Anymore

No need for an afterlife after all
Back to that state of blissful non
Existence, those eons before we we’re
Born

So

I’ll accept, adapt and survive
As an imperative
A duty
To this beautiful
Accident
Of life

I’ll keep at it
Until I’m once again
Nothingness

Then it will be up to you
To go on
To accept, adapt and survive

Towards an ending
Of your own
Choice

What is it for then
If not for breathing

Life slows down
Ever so gently
Every breath we take
Reminds us
Of the mechanism of life

First thing
They hit you
And there you go

A lifetime
Of gasping for air
To keep us going
Directionless
Nowhere

Sometimes
Very rarely
Our breath stops
In front of beauty
And
Or
Horror

It may also falter
In the process
Of creating new
Life

At Times
The breathing
Is heavy
When emotions
Rule your head

We inhale oxygen
To stay here for a while
We inhale marihuana
To get the hell out of here
If only for some
Fleeting moments

I still love the effortlessness
Of the whole process

Life
What is it then for
But to keep on
Breathing

It has been really bad lately
My mind seems to have lost
All purpose or intentions
I even lost control over my tears

Like an animal about to be finished
Unable to fight back or at least flee
My body froze into a static position
Staring at a world without meaning

I have fevers, sweating, shivering
Horrifying dreams telling me to let go
Twenty one pills a day in a stomach attack
I’m not even stable on my feet anymore

But burrowed beneath all this
Is the will to go on and not give in
Linda says I’m sarcastic lately
She’s right, it’s a powerful weapon

Joking about myself and my condition
Even to the extent that others tremble
Seems to do the trick for me, for now
No unwanted tears will kill these words

Last week, for the first time, I was afraid
It turned out to be a wrong mix of drugs
The angst disappeared, and I’m fine again
What an awful life frightened people must live

This may not be my finest hour
These may not be my finest words
But the fact that I’m writing at all
Makes me feel like a victorious
D. Cesar. Monteny

Another day at the hospital
The weather outside is fine
I’m waiting for some chemo
The poison that cures

A pretty young male nurse
Enters with my fluid bag
Ten minutes of salvation
Dripping inside my body

Mister Monteyne: he asks
No, I reply: mister Monteny
That’s right, he said , sorry!
Don‘t! It already happened once

They placed the name tags
On the wrong bags before
By the time I spotted it
The chemo was already flowing

But as luck would have it
We had the same kind of toxic
So it really didn’t matter
Some sloppy work, I guess

How is Mr. Monteyne, I asked
Oh, he died, the nurse replied
Well that’s very convenient
For the both of us here, I said

I wasn’t really mad at the kid
Dead becomes a daily routine
Working on the oncology ward
And just like working in a shelter

Death is as common as life

There’s precious little to say
When your waking hours
Are longing for sleep once more

Nothing really happens at all
If not for the headlines on TV
Convincing you that you’re still alive

It was the week Hugo Claus died
Our greatest Flemish writer ever
And he took the path of euthanasia

A road which might be mine as well
And one I’ve been wondering about
Ever since I knew my battle won’t last

Not for now, I live, I’m in no pain
I embrace every waking second
Of my slightly prolonged existence

But the choice is there, already grinning
At the impossibility of my decision
All the pro’s and contra’s to ponder

There’s one thing I don’t want
And that’s to die in a cold, sterile
hospital room, away from my animals

But to determine the time of my death
That glorious blessing of a final choice
Seems to be to far off into the future

I think events will determine the outcome
As it always does in our daily lives
It think the quality of life will be the judge

These might have been depressing lines
But I’m so glad to live in a country
Where they at least granted me the choice

When enough
Is really enough

I’ve lost a game of chess
Against some silicone chips
A lukewarm, ersatz example
Of what was to follow later on

His body language warned me
It was not going to be good news
Retreated into the back of his chair
He gave me a sobering update

While the cancer in the lung was gone
It had spread out to my adrenal gland
My slight chance of total victory
Had vanished, I was left with a struggle

To the end

Well, I gave myself one day of sorrow
Extending that period for family and friends
After that I picked up my well worn sword
Of reality, optimism and stubbornness

I’ve been cutting some new paths out
An urgency to create being one of them
The luxury of lounging about has gone
So many projects I really want to finish

Before the end

There’s no need for exaggeration though
I might have quite some years ahead of me
But the final outcome is now crystal clear
So I better use my time in an optimal way

The end
Won’t wait

I stepped outside the hospital ward
The news hadn’t been that good
One of my adrenal glands was swollen
And I mean BIG, like a mandarin orange

I had to wait for a meeting on Monday
When all specialists working on my case
Would provide answers, the ones I’m hoping for
The ones I’m dreading, the unexpected ones

And Linda looked so sad, almost tearful
Just when she thought the battle was over
Here we were again bracing ourselves
For another round of life or death days

But I watched several people passing me by
They looked dull, and the weather was damp
The sounds of the city were muted and slow
Even the birds looked tiresome, waiting for spring

I wondered what was going on inside of me
Was something there sharpening it’s knives
Undisturbed, without a plan, without a goal
Preparing to commit murder on the body

It depended on

Eighteen hours of sleep
To wake up and feel tired
Again of being awake

I'm watching "Control"
On DVD, in the movie theatre
Someone screwed up the rolls
And I saw Ian's suicide
In reverse and upside
Down

I go to bed once more, tired
Of being alive, I sleep
Another eighteen hours

I'm walking my Irish Wolfhound
To the vet, and back again
I feel exhausted, then Peter phones
It's good to hear my friend's voice
Even if he's a country away

Sleep is all I know these days
And I manage another eighteen hours
Again as if I'm flirting with dead

Then I wake up, quite reinvigorated
Like my body is ready for my mind
To work and create and write anew
As if nothing has happened
These past three days

Recovering from cancer
Is a strange, absurd, ridiculous
Process, there are no time tables
You just go with the flow
Wherever your body takes you
You follow like a blind man

Soon there will be a check-up
And I will wonder for a week
If I killed the dragon in me
Or if I have to prepare myself
For a really big sleep

I'm approaching 50
she's 19, i suppose,
no-one knows,
we both survived
cancer
last year

and here i am
having a stroll in the park
with her

I have to guide her gently,
she's blind
and hasn't heard my voice
for over a year now
but the pace is alright
as slow as our disease,
at some points
decelerating as
a Sigur Ros track

she looks happy enough though
she smells the decaying leaves
kicks them into the thin cold air
an act of bold, stubborn defiance
cheating death for one more day

at least

I took her from the shelter
unable to terminate her life
having lost myself
in her warm brown eyes

it's been seven years now
how about that, Missy
remember the kittens
i brought home
loving them so much
you started producing milk
gosh, how they purred
drinking from your breasts
remember the abandoned
dogs with litters
we took care of
within a day you were
accepted as an aunt
as a perfect second
mother

well, those days are gone
it's just the two of us now
here
in this park
taking
our
time
to get home

Rain gushing
against my window
water drops flowing
into little rivers
downwards
downwards
storm outside
inside
indecision

and Jacqueline said
it's only temporarily
one more session to go

come on girl
are you kidding me?
two days
is temporarily
or two weeks
or two months
but eighteen months
that's a serious
chunk of life
lost
or missing
in action

Remember the first
nine months?
they thought
it was all in my head
and I nearly gave in
to their point of view
as nothing showed up
under the scanner

well, I suppose
they we're right anyway
'cause there is something
not quite right up there
which no scan will ever
discover, hidden as it is
under years of angry
battles with myself

Four weeks to go
they say, and you're
saved

Yeah, right

One of the chemo bags
is empty, the pump
detecting air bubbles
starts it's signal
beep...beep...beep...
and the nightnurse
comes around
and connects
another fluid bag
and everything
is silent again
then it starts again
beep...beep...beep
she returns, fixes
the problem and
hurries to another
room of beep...
beep...beep...beep

in the middle of the night
suddenly i'm awake
my Jewish room mate
has a problem
of his own
the tube inside
his stomach
had disconnected
from his food bag
there was no beep...
beep...beep...beep....
the pump was working
fine, dripping the
liquid food inside
his bed, until the
sheets were soaking
and he woke up

have you ever tasted
and smelled liquid food?
it reeks the same
when you drink it
or when you fart
or go to the crapper
and now our room
just stank with this
nauseating smell
it put me off
this food for ever
I'd rather starve
to death

and my room mate
felt embarrassed
but i told him
mate, we're in this
together, don't worry
about shit like this
it's not as if we're
on holiday, is it?

Strange, strange
when a bloke
is struggling
to keep alive
that his mindset
is still as if nothing
has ever happened
nothing has changed
and we worry about
some social
niceties

There was this Jew
my last room mate,
a friendly fellow
and he had cancer
on the esophagus
and he was fed
through a tube
in his stomach

He just got back
from a tour of Israel
when the dragon
took his first bite

But this tour of Israel
man, he talked about it
for hours on end,
he had been
on the Golan Heights,
in Jerusalem,
on the beaches
of Tel Aviv
and he saw
the construction
of the wall, the one
to keep suicide
bombers out

gosh, he was so proud
of this wall

Now all i could think of
was the Chinese wall,
Hadrian's wall,
prison walls
the Berlin wall
and of course
the walls of Jericho

well, i kept my mouth
shut, we were both living
on borrowed time
anyway
so our opinions
hardly mattered
and the last thing
i needed was
a curtain wall
inside a hospital room

people dream
of security
but there is
no hiding
from death
no sanctuary
to be found,
we might as well
take our chances

without
the poison
of fear