Interesting to me that on the anniversary date of my total hysterectomy and oophorectomy, I had to drive by the medical center that, not only did I deliver my first baby at, but it
Body pains. Emotional funk. Stomach upset. Existential wonder. Constant as this is, some days it’s next-level loud. Today marks the anniversary of my bilateral mastectomy. The edges of the memories blur only a little due to time passing, but something
I saw an image. It’s August. My head is spinning. The image is of the famous statue of Juliet in Verona, Italy. The caption: “to be a woman….” People have nearly bore a hole
The significance of September. Altered. When vulnerability IS trauma. Tomorrow. The significance of September. This used to be a time of year that I yearned for. That moment when August turned September was the
A Problematic Metaphor We realllllllly don’t like the out-of-control feeling it is to not understand something. We don’t like it when things don’t make sense. We get antsy and prickly when we can’t explain
I wanna talk about something. . .you know, like I do. . .something about cancer that is rarely talked about among fellow patients, as education for the newly diagnosed, within caregiver groups, and that
Milestones. Hmmm. I get it. I do. I understand why we mark specific moments or days or accomplishments. Sort of like anniversaries and I very much appreciate honoring those… But the milestone is a social construct,
Stormy. Malevolent clouds loom, threatening devour.Fragile. Cracked glass on the verge of shatter.Sharp. A porcupine defense against attack.Combative. Landmines active and set.Restless. Electric zzap snapp pop.This. This is trauma survived.The triggers, known and unknown.Lymbic. Primitive.
4 years ago today the veritable cat named Denial was let outta the bag. It was the day that I created my site on MyLifeLine. It was the day that I told everyone in
It’s September. There is a lot to that short little sentence… It’s September. I love this day. I loathe this day. I love what this time of year means to me. I loathe what