A little over a week before Christmas on December 15th, 1999, my mother passed away. I’m guessing she would have been 77 today. Her death was a shock because although she’d been battling cancer for six months, she had just received a good prognosis. The following poem was published on Voxpoetica. It details her lost battle.




It started with a lingering pain.

X-rays were taken,

fluid found in her lungs.

“It’s cancer,” Mother told me.


She started chemotherapy, couldn’t keep anything down,

grew thin, emaciated,

spent a week in the hospital.


Dad cared for her at home.

Although they’d been divorced for years,

he abandoned his house and dog,

moved in with her and her cats,

drove her to and from chemotherapy.


Six months later, she received a good prognosis,

thought she would live,

but a week later, she was gone.


Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author of We Shall Overcome and How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

Author: abbiejohnsontaylor

I'm the author of two novels,, two poetry collections, and a memoir. My work has appeared in various journals and anthologies. I'm visually impaired and live in Sheridan, Wyoming, where for six years, I cared for my totally blind late husband who was paralyzed by two strokes. Please visit my website at

4 thoughts on “Cancer”

  1. I hate cancer. My first blog post was about cancer. I am a cancer conqueror and am inspired by those who fight against this wicked monster every day.

    I am sure that your mother looks down on you from time to time, and smiles.


    Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.

    Vivian Green



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