Speak it into reality

Life is too short to forget about goals and the future, right? In these days of the coronapocalypse, it is a little difficult to plan for the future. Do I want to spend a week in the mountains locked away in a cabin in September?

Yes.

Do I want to take an Alaskan cruise in January? 

Yes.

Do I want to go back to Italy next March?

Of course I do. 

But the thing is, the coronapocalypse has ruined any way to plan for the future. When will this pandemic end?

 

So I can't really make plans for after the pandemic, because when will that be?

But I noticed on the Twitterverse that there were some people who were speaking their future into reality. For example, someone (I don't remember who) tweeted that in 3 months they would run a 5k (or something). And then they made it happen!

So, speaking the future into reality. By the end of 2020, I will complete my second 5k. (My first one was pre-cancer, and I ran/jogged the entire thing stopping to walk, in a respectable 32-ish minutes.)

Now, considering the cane, the cancer, and the likely continuing pandemic, I have no delusions of running a 5k in that kind of time; however, even if I have to walk or crawl or use crutches, I will complete a 5k by the end of the year.

And speaking more of the future into reality: is that by the end of the year I will get my writing published. Well, guess what.

I got a second piece published: Schrodinger's Cancer Patient.

I am extremely proud of this piece. And! I am that much closer to meeting my goals!

Published! "Mother's Love"

I've made it my goal to get my work published. I've been working hard compiling and organizing my writing, which includes poetry, prose, and creative non-fiction.

I am so pleased to announce that one of my pieces has been published through Lacuna Loft's blog. I know I've mentioned this organization before, and I will keep on linking and mentioning it as it has become a very important part of my life.

Anyway, I've been submitting my work for a few weeks now, across various platforms, and I am very proud to say that the first piece to be published is a personal essay called Mother's Love.

Please take a look and share with your friends and your family.

Hopefully soon I'll have more published works to share!

Original Creative Piece: Sometimes

Sometimes, there are so many words inside of my head, I feel like I might explode. I have poems, and stories, vivid memories and hazy images, all scrambling to escape.

Sometimes, those words hit my soul.

Ocean.

Water.

Waves.

Salt.

Floating. Adrift. Endless.

Sometimes, I write about the sea

Sometimes, I don't know how to say what I want to say.

Honest? Hurtful? Unfiltered? Blunt? Brutal?

Softened? Eased? Semi-true?

I don't know where my inspiration comes from. My Rockstar Neurosurgeon has been inside my head. Has he met my Muse? Does he know where the ideas hide? Where they develop? How they are born?

Sometimes, the words burn inside of me. An inferno of rage. A conflagration consuming me from deep inside.

Hot.

Hateful.

Unkind.

The worst parts, burned beyond ugliness. Too charred to share.

Sometimes, the thoughts fly out of my head. Too jumbled, bursting forth like starlings flying together and apart as if of one mind. Flying is better than falling. Few things are better than flying. Flying is freedom. Falling is inevitable. Falling is fate, for all of us, eventually.

Sometimes, the words are the most important thing in the world.

Sometimes, they are just words.

One Year cancerversary

Well, one year ago today, I was diagnosed with brain cancer. I'm still here, still mostly me, minus a few bones and plus a few extra scars. When it comes down to it, I don't want to celebrate this as some special milestone; I just want to say that inertia keeps me going, and as long as I can keep on going, I will keep on going.

As a young kid, I remember taking a special test, and in the 3rd grade I was moved to the Gifted class. I was proud of being a smart kid. I loved to read (still do) but for me, for most of my life, my proudest asset was my intelligence, my logic, my rationality. Life played a dirty trick on me by letting this happen, and it just wasn't fair. I felt betrayed, lost.

I was afraid.

But it wasn't just the cancer, I was afraid of losing myself. I begged my Rockstar Neurosurgeon not to make me stupid. I was so scared to wake up from actual literal brain surgery having forgotten how to read, how to spell, how to write.

Would I even know if that part of me was erased? Who would I be without that part of me? My Rockstar Neurosurgeon is a true Rockstar, and I came out of that first (of multiple) brain surgeries with very little in the way of deficits. My reading speed slowed down, but otherwise I was okay.

Since then I've had radiation beamed directly into my head, three different kinds of chemo, three brain surgeries, countless MRIs, finding more tumors, and the never-ending isolation of Covid quarantine. But after a year of all of this, I am doing okay. As okay as I can be with cancer.

Yeah, I have cancer, but I'm not helpless, and I'm not dying yet. I spent a lot of time thinking about my inevitable mortality, staring at that bus. It took me a long time, but I am finally able to stop thinking about it, at least for days or even weeks at a time. It's not about dying of cancer any more. For now, I choose to mark this milestone by living with cancer. No cakes or parties because I don't want your germs, but I won't say no to a few more penpals, and if you would like to donate I still have that Gofundme, Amazon wish list, Cashapp, stuff like that. Do you know how much it costs to keep up with prescription copays?It's a LOT

My family and friends who have been here for me, thank you for all of your love and support. It means more to us than you could possibly know.

Ok, ready to hear the original poem of the day?

Things they don’t tell you about cancer:

It is lonely

It is frightening

Everything hurts

The chemo isn’t even the worst part

Well, sometimes, it is

There is so much to keep track of

Like a full-time job

Flu season is scary

Covid quarantine is pants-shittingly terrifying

You can’t hug every friend or family member you see

No matter how much a good strong embrace would help

It is too dangerous

Besides

Your skin will hurt

Your stomach will hurt

Even hugging your dog will hurt

there is so much fear

Is this a normal cancer symptom?

When should I worry?

When should I just take a valium and go to sleep?

How to turn off the loop in my head?

Cancer cancer cancer

Cancer cancer cancer

Eat dream and breathe cancer

It erases who you were

A professional

A friend

A sister

A daughter

Instead you become the diagnosis

Cancer cancer cancer

A reader

A writer

A mentor

Cancer cancer cancer

Consuming you

Destroying you

Shredding you to bits

Tearing away all of your softest spots

Leaving you with only the hardest pieces

Cancer cancer cancer

It leaves you with nothing but stone

They don’t tell you that you will have to be stronger than you have ever been

That the scars will harden you

Preparing you for the fight of your literal life

It will be quiet

Whispers and murmured euphemisms

So many prayers and thoughts

Overflowing good vibes and warm fuzzies

They won’t tell you any of these things.

-         11 June 2020

That's my stuff for today. I hope you have a good day. Love you guys!

Inspired and motivated and random thoughts

Today I feel inspired and motivated. I've been reading and resting and hanging out with my niece who came to visit. But today, I woke up ready to write a real chapter of my book. No time to waste, need to get these words out of my head and onto the screen.

I have joined a few communities recently, including the writing group which I know I have mentioned. I've made some really amazing cancer friends (online, of course *thanks quarantine*). I've been learning from my co-conspirators in this terrible club we are all members of, and I've been able to take better care of my mental health this way. Before, I thought I was too fragile and too afraid to have cancer friends. But even with all the different stages and types of cancer, we are all sharing valuable experiences, even if they are often incredibly unpleasant.

Let's talk mental health. From the beginning, I knew I would need help. If you have a cold, you take Dayquil, right? There's no shame in taking some medicine to stop the flow of boogies and constant sneezing. You might even pop some extra vitamin C to hopefully prevent the flu or some sinus infection from taking you out. I know enough about myself to know that I am predisposed to depression and anxiety, so from the beginning, I knew I would need chemical help to make it through all of this. I'm not ashamed to say that I am on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills and even birth control pills to keep my brain chemistry and hormones evened out and relatively balanced.

So when this all started, I got into regular talk therapy and also tried music therapy. Neither of these was quite the right fit for me. That doesn't mean that therapy doesn't work, but for me, I needed something different.

The wild thing that I truly never expected was my cancer writing group to be more beneficial for my overall mental health and stability than so-called real therapy would be. I've always been a reader, and I've always written when my feelings overwhelmed me; somehow I never realized the connection between the emotion and the release/acceptance of how I was feeling.

Anyway, if you just wanted a regular cancer update: still have it, chemo sucks, blah. Good times.

Original poem, and a commentary on quarantine

discarded mask

disgusted by the disposable nature of safety

one year ago I would not have needed the muzzle

keeping me in

keeping you out

stifled by hot breath

disgusted by myself

why is it I have to burp every time I put on the mask?

disappointed in protesters who disrespect my condition for their "constitutional rights"

Freedom to kill me

dissolves my Freedom to be

I long for before

1 impatiently wait for after

unable to mask my disgust at the unmasked-

so afraid of every cough, every sneeze.

- 21 May 2020

I wrote this for my writing group a few weeks ago, and I want to talk about this coronapocalypse. Now, I know that people are stir crazy, fighting cabin fever, and trying to figure out how not to dropkick their kids out the window.

The thing is I've been essentially on lock-down, self-quarantining since flu season started. I go out every once in a while with The Husband, with my reusable washable mask, and tons of hand sanitizer. Our trips out are quick and purpose-driven, and involve very little in the way of meandering. Since I've been essentially in isolation since December (I think?), I've become very uncomfortable being in public. People cough, sneeze, and breathe on all kinds of things that I don't even want to think about. So essentially I stay in my house.

On top of all of that, I just recently started anOTHER new chemo protocol. Plus my wonderful oncology team has so kindly added even more pills to take every day.

I've got uppers, downers, anti-inflammatory pills, antacids, the whole lot. This new treatment protocol is HARD. Not to get into too much whiny detail, but sometimes it feels like drowning under the weight of it all. I've been trying to keep up with people as much as I have the time and energy to do so, but y'all, I am tired. There is nothing interesting happening, and because I am even more immunocompromised than before, I really just don't trust going out in the public. If one flu virus or strep germ gets to me, it could be incredibly dangerous.

So, that being said, I know that I've been pretty radio silent for a while. I know there is a whole apocalypse happening out there in the world. My silence doesn't mean I don't notice what is happening out there. My silence means that I have my actual literal brain as my top priority right now. That is all I can focus on at the moment, and you know what, I have actual literal brain cancer. I think this focus is fair.