Gray clouds

Yesterday I woke up back in the hospital. Just when I thought I was about to break through the post-chemo fog, I came down with chills and a fever, which happens to be a medical emergency given my immunocompromised status. I spoke to the on-call physician who referred me to the oncology urgent care for labs, fluids, and IV antibiotics. As expected, my white blood cell counts and absolute neutrophil counts were extremely low, nearly 0. Which means my body has no immune system to fight any little bits of infection it would normally be able to. My doctor promptly admitted me to the hospital for 48 hours for further testing and monitoring.

Outside my window, overcast skies kept the room dark enough to ease my headaches. I’m reminded one of my favorite poems by Venezuelan artist Lalo Yaha called ‘El cielo nunca es gris’. Translation: the sky is never gray.

The poem explains that what we see are gray clouds, not the sky. The clouds obscure our view. The clouds hide the sun. But beyond the clouds, the sun shines bright and the sky is brilliant blue. The gray clouds of life, be it coldness, darkness, winter, pain, do not last forever.

In the past 2 weeks, I’ve thought about this poem often. Just as the weather changes despite our best efforts to predict it, there are many unexpected hurdles on this treatment path. I was mentally ready and had my bags packed for chemo when I was told were no available beds and I’d have to wait another day. I felt darkness descend, a crippling heaviness from feeling so powerless. I crawled out of it by reminding myself: the sky is never gray. This is merely a gray cloud that will pass.

I trudged through the mental fuzziness and physical malaise in the days after chemo, repeating to myself: the sky is never gray, the sky is never gray, the sky is never gray. This is another gray cloud, this too will pass.

Then another curveball, neutropenic fevers requiring another hospitalization on top of my already jam-packed scheduled. Another gray cloud. It will pass.

This reality begs us to believe again. Choose hope over despair. I won’t let gray days get me down. As promised, today my counts recovered and the sun came out.

Scenes from Friday

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So I’ve found peace through reciting this poem. The week before surgery I went on a date with a poet who translates Spanish/English works professionally. I have no formal training in this area, but here is my attempt at a poetic translation (translating for meaning, not word-for-word). I’ll begin with employing my artistic license to refer to the sky as The Heavens here, (the translation for a capitalized El Cielo).

@laloyahaVuelve a creer #relfexion #reflexiones #poema

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The Heavens are never gray
what you see are clouds
preventing you from seeing what lies beyond
but I can assure you
that beyond this rain
is a sky that always prevails

The Heavens are never gray
turn around
look for a window between the clouds
and you will see
that above all
there are brilliant blues that soothe the soul
and a sun that when it sets
paints the horizon with indescribable colors

The Heavens are never gray
In fact, they say that what makes the sea look blue
is simply the reflection of the sky 
So don't believe the story your mind tells you
that everything is rain and pain

To you, who misses summer, a life of colors
free from nostalgia and free from cold
I understand that there are very long winters, places where the sun does not appear
Gray places
 Gray people
  Gray moments
but you do not cloak yourself in gray

I'm not asking you live only for summer
as if nostalgia and pain did not exist 
but put on a white coat and believe again
put on colored glasses
cheat reality
because there is no eternal winter
there is no sun that is not reborn

The clouds will pass and it will be your turn
turn off the heating
strip your dreams bare and throw them into the sea
and you will realize again
that the Heavens are never gray