Author Archive
But not today. Today I feel run over, sore, itchy, weepy, sleepy, and way too tender, almost as good a list as what my veins had been accused of: jumpy, rolly, scarred, valvesy, clotty, and positional like the seven dwarfs even though there are only six, the six veiny sins every nurse/would-be sticker must face…
A shitty prognosis can feel like a blight, a dismal cloud obscuring the light. The dust turns your world into endless night, droughting your hope and dimming your sight. But you find within a spring beyond plight, sweet water flowing with grace and with might. You steer your body away from your fright and crawl…
In the autumn of 2019, during six weeks of radiation treatments while Henry and I stayed at the John Zay guest house near Penrose Hospital in Colorado Springs, I spent a lot of time writing and making small paintings, and I joined a Facebook support group for people diagnosed with glioblastoma called something like “from…
Circle Roll with itdon’t sweat the small stuff, even if the small stuff goes on all day longmake like a duck letting problems drip off your feathers, or lick them dry like a catbe like water flowing around boulders, knowing that eventually the rock will wear awayrelax and keep your sense of humor — be…
Okay sensei glioblastoma, you brought me to my knees with Nancy’s death. Even though we all knew it was coming, your throw had an extra kick in it, a little more than was strictly necessary. After I got up and shook it off, you gave me a subtle head fake and totally swept my balance…
The doctor practically danced into the room as he handed us a comparative printout of my brain, one MRI taken in September in which a whitish/grayish blob is visible, and today’s with no white spot at all, a uniform hue. He said the Avastin seems to be working… and whatever else you’re doing, keep doing it. Shall…
When I return I will be a dolphin in search of Henry if he returns as a dolphin. Together we will glisten as we leap into the air and plunge back into the ocean, spouting and clicking and singing our delight at being alive again in the great mother. Together, we might save a drowning…
The longest night of the longest year trouble still looms but birth is near a way is opening, the path will soon clear open to the light; let go of your fear give your love to those you hold dear take the brakes off and slip into gear the time is now; the place is…
When I was young, I didn’t realize that losing your grip was more than a metaphor for losing your mind, losing control, losing touch with reality, becoming confused, indecisive, foundering at sea. I always suspected that losing your grip had something to do with aging: a dulling of the sword, a dampening of the mental…