i have spent 51 days waiting to see if i have cancer.
that might seem abrupt, perhaps even insensitive.
i don't rightly give a fuck.
51 days getting ducks-in-order.
my ducks are slightly mischievous & typically, but in no certain prioritized order :
complex, myopic, hungry & happy Game of Thrones is back on
spending 51 days in the pre-diagnosis era plants me squarely next to my mother, Norma
Norma first discovered her breast cancer when i was about 12 or 13 … she was 42ish
it brought a bubble to my pollyanna-technicolor-groovy-childhood
i began to understand the fragility & chaos of life … i also understood cancer and the psycho-trippy shit it drips upon a family
my mother survived … but that darkness resurfaced 5 years later in her brain.
she survived even that for nearly 25 years, but she was forever altered in so many not-so-pleasing & warm-fuzzy ways.
i understood the purgatory of symptoms - lumps, bumps & things that keep one up at night.
i understood how until you know you don't - you do.
i made my peace with cancer ….
baked it a pie, took out it's trash, held it's hand, fought with it, yelled at it,
buried shadow-parts in alleys & my backyard in the violet darkness of night,
then baked it yet another cherry pie
every every year on christmas eve would talk to the stars in a grateful seethingly angry sorta-way
i made my peace, but in a furious-angry way
my mother & i finally began to get along during the last two weeks of her life, nearly 25 years after that first lump & bump & scary thing. of course, we didn't know it was her last two weeks …. but for the first time she seemed happy, crazy-funny, hopeful almost & i was just learning to appreciate her wit & somewhat caustic attitude.
i am sure i don't have have cancer - nope nope nope
these 51 days are but a phase of my moon - a bit untethered & barren, but rich in awareness.
i have made my peace, and now it is okay. i will be okay, in large part to my mother who
rode in this rodeo and taught me the weight of my bones.
and i write this for no tea & sympathy ….
though i adore tea, i rather loath sympathy
( though i do appreciate a large bag of almond m&m's )
i write this because this season smells of rain & the bark of white birch
i write ….well ….
because i have to
everyone has their very own 51 days sometimes …
lost between stars, burying shadows in alleys & backyards.