.
Dementing Torture of Benign
Drugs against Malignancy
His life came to its
End. Smell of the medicine
Departs chillingly.
—Dakotsu
The faint, faint fragrance of the cancer drugs
Had floated in her bedroom quite a while.
They smelled as well as evil’s curing drugs
Which hinted with a demon’s hanging guile
Above her. They were helping her to die
Less painfully—or that was their main claim.
But specters that they were helped hide that lie.
Instead they found a subtle way to maim
Her with a stink-like itching. Where she lay
Her husband had to treat her with the pain
Replacing pain. She wished that he could flay
The skin to take away that itching’s reign.
_When she was taken to the hospice, stench
__Enough remained to make her left man blench.
.
.
Phillip Whidden is an American living in England who has been published in America, England, Scotland (and elsewhere) in book form, online, and in journals.
Phillip, please accept my sympathy on your loved one’s, and your, ordeal.
You have written a powerful piece. The repetition of “drugs” in Line 3 emphasizes the onerous, clinging weight of the medications.
Mary Gardner, I did not realize until today that this poem appeared here on July 16. I’m sorry about my delayed reply. Thank you for your sympathy. Yes, various kinds or repetition can be a strength in traditional poetry and you point to the breaking of a strong rule in sonnetry–for fairly obvious reasons.
I could feel the pain.
Roy Eugene Peterson, I did not realize until today that this poem appeared here on July 16. I’m sorry about my delayed reply. It was her pain that mattered.
Well-expressed sadness, Phillip. I wish doctors weren’t so controlled by pharmaceutical companies.
Cynthia Erlandson, I did not realize until today that this poem appeared here on July 16. I’m sorry about my delayed reply. I hope you won’t be offended when I say that for years longer that we expected she survived her cancer because of the various other drugs deployed by the doctors. The main painkiller drug is what caused the agony of itching.
The sense of smell may be the most difficult of the five to render with words in a poem. You never say, Phillip, what the drugs smell like–but by using visual and tactile images, and by personifying the drugs as invisible demonic specters, you suggest the foulness of the “faint, faint fragrance.” Your long title has an important function in describing the torture as “dementing” (causing so much pain to the body as to affect the mind), and by making a meaningful contrast between “benign” and “malign.” The Dakotsu haiku efficiently sums up what you expand upon, and your final couplet too speaks of the horror of the smell. Not only have the drugs tortured the patient, they produce a ghastly effect on the caregiver. This is a well-unified sonnet, rich in artistic strategies, that leaves the reader horrified as well. I think approvingly of one of my friends who decided, when her case was declared terminal, to forego more medication. She had more months left, and easier ones, than anyone would have thought possible.
Margaret Coats, I did not realize until today that this poem appeared here on July 16. I’m sorry about my delayed reply. Your close reading is very impressive. Many poets would love to have you reacting to their poetry. I had a poet friend in Edinburgh in Scotland who actually once objected to a poem causing feeling in him. I hardly knew how to reply. I think you mean your friend who eschewed the doctors’ drugs had “easier” months due to that decision. Thank you for telling me that.
I can’t say too much now, but this hits really, really close to home. Poignant, observant and clear. An important topic and feeling to cover. Keep them coming!
Daniel Kemper, I did not realize untilaI did not realize until today that this poem appeared here on July 16. I’m sorry about my delayed reply today that this poem appeared here on July 16. I’m sorry about my delayed reply. I gather you were a bit too moved by the sonnet because of a relatively recent experience. This incident happened over two years ago to her and me. It took me a while to address it in a sonnnet. Maybe that won’t surprise you. Thanks for encouraging me to keep writing sonnets. I have now written and posted over 3,400 on my website.
“Stink-like itching” is such a unique metaphor. As Margaret notes, I don’t think I’ve seen a smell-related metaphor for a tactile feeling before. But it works. Smells can’t be gotten rid of merely by popping a pill, and the type of chronic itching described above would have the same all-pervading effect.
Often the younger members in our family have done personal care work for older members. It’s quite a learning curve. The smells are real, like reminders of the wrap-around effects of mortality. But the wrap-around effects of love also go far. One thing I’ve noticed is that often the sick person doesn’t notice smells as much: it’s mostly the caregiver. And that’s one small way in which we help bear the burden.
Rachel, I did not realize until today that this poem appeared here on July 16. I’m sorry about my delayed reply. Yes, although synaesthesia has been deployed since at least the time of Homer, I too have seen very few uses of it in the smell/touch mode. Thanks for saying this example worked for you. I’m sorry for the burdens you refer to in your family–but very pleased by your reporting of “wrap-around” love.
Anyone who has been through long “hospital days,” either for his own treatment or someone else’s, will know the great impact of these lingering, strong-smelling pills on their brains. This is a poignant piece with several hard-hitting points: defining these pills as the devil’s curing drugs and the smell as stink-like itching. One who endures it knows it. The couplet sums up the painful experience that the family members deal with. Thanks for this piece, Phillip.
Shamik Banerjee, I did not realize until today that this poem appeared here on July 16. I’m sorry about my delayed reply. Thanks for commenting on the rhyming couplet favorably. Decades ago someone very close to me announced that s/he didn’t like rhyming. My reaction: I doubled down on rhyming by choosing Shakespeare’s form of the sonnet which bangs with rhyme at the end as distinct from the gentler Petrarchan form.