THON is such an integral part of the Penn State experience, and the underlying theme is an even more prominent part of many of these students' lives. I guarantee you've come into contact with someone battling cancer or someone with a loved one battling cancer, and yeah, it is really the worst feeling. So, in honor of the upcoming event at PSU, I thought I'd focus on a less famous poet this week, but one whose battles are extremely relevant given the timing.
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| Max Ritvo in 2014 by Ashley Woo |
Max Ritvo, 1990-2016, bravely and candidly chronicled his battle with Ewing's Sarcoma when he was 16, and after a year of treatment he was able to complete high school and attend Yale University, where the cancer returned his senior year. He still completed a MFA from Columbia University, all the while suffering from what had become an incurable reality. Ritvo's poems focused on his experiences with battling cancer but he did not want to be the "inspiring" victim of cancer. He even served as a counseling resource to other families dealing with the same illness - he seemed like a pretty good guy. I couldn't wait to read one of his poems.
The first poem of his that I read is called "Dawn of Man." It's not super long, written in two-line stanzas, and it basically REALLY gives insight into what it's like to battle such an overtaking disease. I don't know about the rest of you, but I did lose a close family member to cancer - it's actually what I did my TIB podcast about - and I've always wondered what it was like to actually be suffering from such a disease. To feel your body giving out from under you. To know that you're dying. To wonder about what will happen after you die. These are all things that I can't imagine.
I'm going to focus on a few specific parts of the poem. He writes "After the cocoon I was in a human body instead of a butterfly's. All along my back there was great pain -- I groped to my feet where I felt wings behind me, trying to tilt me back. They succeeded in doing so after a day of exertion." Cut to "My thoughts remained those of a caterpillar -- I took pleasure in climbing trees. I snuck food into all my pains. My mouth produced language which I attempted to spin over myself and rip through happier and healthier."
I find the caterpillar metaphor so powerful - not only is it significant in a rebirth sense, but it captures the emotions that Ritvo was experiencing as he grappled with the harsh reality he had been thrust into. The cocoon, I believe, is his life before being diagnosed, when he was protected from the world, and the new life is where he's a human battling this disease. The language produced by his mouth is like the silk (I think that's what caterpillars do to make cocoons?) that he's trying to use to put himself back into the previous state of happiness and oblivion, but he cannot do so - just like a butterfly can't return to a caterpillar, he can't return to where he once was.
Although Ritvo and many other people who valiantly battled cancer are no longer with us, their legacies are often significant and can be used to help give strength to others. And now, with THON upon us, I hope that we all can draw strength from others - and give strength to those who need it more than us.
This was a very powerful and relevant post. My mother had Thyroid cancer when I was in elementary school, and I remember how difficult it was to see her in a pained condition. She also had a brain tumor a couple of years later, which she has described as extremely painful and difficult to deal with. I really like how you structured this post, and how open you were. Great job Sara!
ReplyDeleteYour post was really amazing, and Max Ritvo sounds like an incredible person. His caterpillar metaphor was really interesting and really made me think about what he was saying. I really liked your post, and it was a great way to inspire me before THON!
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