|My autographed Chuck-It Bucket|
Twas the night before Chemo, when all through the house,
The cats were snoozing, dreaming of mouse.
I wore my ‘kerchief, and doubled up in my cap,
Then settled my brain for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But my newly hired snow plow driver, 'bout time he got here.
With a flick of his blade, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment that I wouldn't be sick.
“Now Carboplatin! now, Taxotere! now, Zofran and Herceptin!
On, Immodium! On, Senocot! , on Phernegan and Lidocaine! (sorry, I can't rhyme this mess)
To the top of the bald head! to the bottom of it all!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of anti-nausea meds, and my Oncologist, too.
I look chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw my reflection, in spite of myself!
I was warned there would soon not be a hair on my head,
and about plenty of side effects I am trying not to dread.
Drinking lots of green tea, glad for my pot with a whistle,
And rubbing my skull that's now like the down of a thistle.
Then I exclaimed, as I dozed for the night,
“Happy Chemo to all, and to all a good-night!