Raving Wrants and Other Grants

About the Book

Ud Deus Vult!

UD DEUS VULT!
(As God Wills It!)

Dedicated to: John J. Vollmerhausen, M.D.
Norma Storm, RN
Bella Ramos, RN
Sharee Eisenga, RN
Cher Chan-Farrell, RN

Hell has no fury like a cancer born, cancer, Non-Hogkin´s Intermediate Lymphoma, what´s that? My sister (36), dying of breast cancer in 1972; my mother (73), dying of a rare cancer (six dying worldwide -- words from a noted oncologist in Switzerland) in 1982; my father (97), dying in 1997, having the blood pressure of a teenager, and I now having Non-Hogkin´s Intermediate Lymphoma.

I, living in a surrounded city as a bad horror film replays itself in the near distance and the chills, the saddening, the repercussions, though I wouldn´t want to think of them now, because they´ll always be part of my life.

And then the Chemotherapy and the falling of innumerable hairs to silent grounds, much more than is seen out in tuffs, the color of body skin, tallow grease, the background pain seemingly enduring somewhat better.

The good cancer cells now waning more slowly, with chemical cocktails mixed of brightened hues, as pretty chemo nurses, hurrying about their business, that of pushing poisons intravenously, while uttering words of laughter.

Poisons continually dripping into veins, that is, when the pretty chemo nurses have the time; otherwise, pleasing poisons being slamdunked into orifices as fast and easy as black tar spreads during a criminal roadblock, all the time my bald head manipulating a fierce ball court,

continuously crying because of thirst, while trying to rest the nights when one cannot sleep, the shifting around, the screaming, the crying, and the night sweating, faster than a bull in heat, having a continuous nightmare, awakening in a casket full of water.

Another nightmare of locking the door, locking myself in, leaving me staring at the tubes, as if the tubes could moisten me with the pretty poisons, the fiery tumors marinating at length, fearing length as the balance of my life.

A human is said to be a monster of pieces, the thoughts lasting ages, a chemo veteran, many scars, four years in remission, sliding into a chemo nurse years later at a ballgame, "Ho! Ho!, Let´s play ball," then vomiting on the referee with no apology.

Once one has had cancer, no headaches ensue, one only gets brain tumors, at least until specialized poisons take hold; no, let me think of names for the poisons, but unable to remember because of enveloping chemo in brain.

Visualizing wings on my apron, swaying to and fro, saying it, cancer as if it were in the name of a God; that´s the trouble with these patients now; were they speaking of having Chemotherapy?

The spirit watches from the corner (chazo reporting that it deadened his soul), sliding down the bumpy lawn and sometimes thinking; "Oh, to live one life and not another!"

The pain passing now, the addictive pills taking effect, my thoughts shattering in a thousand shards to go on hearing the loud traffic, and also the screaming beyond; is this really happening to me, a dream, a nightmare, or what?

I am thinking it must feel like insanity at times, piercing the vagina dry with gravel stones, as one is hanging onto the wet placenta, like effervescent bubbles frozen in deep caverns of fallopian tubes; these to be used another time.

The soft wavering balloon that time has now forgotten, with the showing of many pennies and other costly coins, flying in myriad loose flying bits, while holding still the medicine ball the child continues to play with.

A father would have added up the cost

About the Author

charles oscar garcia-nelson, has written and edited 57 computer technical manuals for companies located worldwide; he has written more than 250 poems. mr. garcia-nelson graduated with a bba/busad degree from armstrong university (berkeley), completed upper-class courses at the university of california (berkeley), and graduated with an mba and a ph.d in business administration/ computer science from dallas state college and the university of beverly hills, respectively. his mother was puerto rican; his father, swedish. he is in remission from lymphoma and lives with his family in las vegas, nevada.