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My last short fiction instructor told us not to write about cancer. "It's been done," she said. Well, the hell with that. I learned in the last three weeks that I have stage III breast cancer. Writing, painting, and assorted other arts are how I process stuff, in addition, of course, to long conversations with friends. These conversations have begun in earnest these recent days, but I realized my Facebook page in particular was in danger of becoming a medical-update site. I do not want that. My life is still going to be about more than cancer, as much as that may not seem possible right now. Also, I don't want to alienate friends who are not ready to walk this particular valley with me at this time. For example, one elderly friend who called to cheer me up this week can't even handle the "c-word," and there is no way she will be up for any truly frank discussion of what's about to happen here. So she is advised to keep in touch with me via Facebook. People who are comfortable with the c-word, honest discussion and occasional cursing are welcome to join me here.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Not a good night

After feeling so well yesterday, woke up at 3am feeling very unwell.  They said this would happen...I am finding some satisfaction in imagining the same thing happening to all those cancer cells as is happening apparently to the good ones!

1 comment:

  1. Sean just showed me a picture of your new haircut. You need to post it, since I think we'll all agree with Sean, who said, when he showed me the photo, my mom "ROCKS IT!" Of course I agree, since we now share a similar style. The look works for you. When this ordeal is all over, you should consider keeping your hair in some sort of a short do.

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