On the day before 94-year old Bessie died, she announced to her younger son Larry that she was breaking out. Clear out of the blue. A declaration of independence so foreign to her...
Grateful and patriotic. That’s how I felt last weekend when E and I escaped again to the mainland. This time there weren’t any medical procedures tagged onto the end of...
In an earlier post I shared some of the things I was angry about since this dance with the Big C began. Mostly bat-shit crazy, Mad Hatter things that have been overwhelming and...
I’ve been brought to my knees. Countless times over the past year. In fear. Humility. Frustration. Weakness. In sorrow. To pray. Beg. Plead. Implore. Ask for mercy and...
Start. Stop. Slow down. Speed up. Wait. Proceed with caution. The traffic signs of the Big C trip. We’re forced to walk when all we really want to do is run. For our lives. ...
This post comes with a WARNING. What you’re about to read may make you uncomfortable. Or mad. I’m mad. Mad as hell. What do I do with all this seething anger? I...
I feel so many things. I’m a mixed bag of sentiments since this cancer thing with E began. Maybe like Lady Gaga, I was born this way. And E’s illness has just magnified, and...
Sometimes I just want to escape. Get away from it all. Take off. Break out. I have fantasies about this. They usually go something like this. I’m in the truck, or some...
I usually like to keep a bit of time and distance between me and the stories I tell. Sometimes years like I have with the Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter. With others,...
Sometimes I just want to start over. Tear out the page. Crumple it up. Toss it into the nearest garbage can. Press delete. Delete. Delete. Begin again. Change everything....
