Nov 092007

Last Saturday night, I had intended to be hanging out at an apres Hallowe’en “Day of the Dead” party but about the time the doors were opening for that event, my mom took one final lung full of breath and then cashed in her chips.
I’ve spent the last week in a town that I hate, burying a woman that I love and hanging on to a very delicate thread that ties me to sanity and the big picture. Okay, it slipped away more than once.

I expect I will feel a lot of things about my mom’s death over the next little while. There hasn’t been much time to just sit and let the reality wash over me. I’m sure that will come, and at all the least convenient times.

Here’s the thing.
I am a mix of good things and bad things. Somedays I am hard pressed to know what the good things might be, especially lately.
Whatever good there is in me got planted there by my mom.
When I was a kid, my mom wouldn’t let me watch Hogan’s Heroes. She said Nazi concentration camps/POW camps weren’t funny.
When I came home at age five and said someone had ‘jew’ed’ me out of something, she sat me on a stool and told me why I shouldn’t talk use expressions that justified treating other people atrociously.
When I came home at age six and said someone ‘gyp’ed’ me out of something, I got the same conversation, this time about the persecution of the gypsies rather than the Jews.
When I have acted like a dope, my mom could tell me to grow up and get over it and…. I would. More often than not.
I have always held my mom, and her opinion of me, in very high regard.

My mom died of Alzheimers, but more to the point, she died from isolation. When she was in her fifties, she and my dad moved to a town where she had to start all over again. And that was just too hard. It was too hard for her to find a job at that age and her social circle was vaporized, so that her only friends were the wives of my dad’s friends. And that didn’t actually click.
I feel bad about the loneliness my mother lived with for the last chunk of her life and I find myself wondering if there was anything I could have done better to support her.

My mom was smart and funny and ethical. She tried very hard to be fair, and I try to do the same.

It’s been a long time since my mom and I could have a conversation. She stopped knowing who her kids were about 3 years ago. And yet, she knew we were all there sitting with her right before she died. Something was different, her eyelids would flutter when one of us would talk. I dunno, but I know she knew we were there and I know that it mattered for her. And then she died.
If you knew how completely unlikely it is for me and my siblings to all be in the same room at the same time, you, like me, might think that she had actually died of shock.

So… my mom is dead.
Because it’s been so long since she participated in her life, I convinced myself it was just sort of a technicality. But I sat in the car and wept when we drove to the hospital to tell my dad that the woman he married 57 years ago had died.

The funny, not ha-ha funny but kick you in the ass funny, part is that everyone in my family has been having kittens about my dad and his crap-tastic health and his not-long-for-this-astral-plane future, and then my mom goes and sucker punches all of us and I think, “Good for you, mom. Good for finally getting some tiny shred of the attention you deserved.”

If there is one decent thing about my mom and Alzheimers, it’s that she was completely unaware of my whole cancer process, chemo and all its vile side effects. I am glad she never had to watch me go through that.

So, R.I.P. Mom.
Thanks for doing all you could to make me a decent person and the world a decent place.

 Posted by at 10:50 pm
Sep 082007

So, a friend of mine died of ovarian cancer on Friday morning. Unlike other folks who I sorta know who have died of OVCA in the last couple of years, she is someone I knew in the flesh and knew before her diagnosis.

Marianna got diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer about a year ago. I remember pretty clearly because I was having a crap-tastic weekend. I had just been told my dad has lung cancer, and I had a major appointment of my own at the High Risk Clinic, and in the midst of all that, a couple of friends took me out for dinner, to offer some morbid support. While we were having burritos, one of my friends’ cell phone rang, saying that Marianna was in the emergency department, with her girlfriend. On the way back from dinner, we stopped in to check on Marianna.

She said that the surgeons had drained a litre and a half of fluid from her lungs. She said they were talking about the possibility that it was cancer but, as she said, she wasn’t willing to believe that right off the bat.
I remember thinking, “You hold on to that thought as long as you can, sister.”

Marianna did chemo right up till about three weeks ago.
Along the way, people I know would say that she was dying.
I, as a cancer survivor, have a particular issue with regular folks deciding how much time a cancer patient has left on the clock. But suffice to say that Marianna has been proving folks wrong for at least the last six months.

And on Friday, she died.

I saw her on Monday night. She had been unconscious and, out of the blue, came to on Monday and spent the day on her porch, enjoying herself. By the time I got there, she had slipped back into sleep. But I sat there with her. It was nice. The house was warm like an orchid hothouse, but her bedroom window was open and it was a summer rain happening outside and a nice breeze and the sound of rain falling, and I was happy for her that she got to be in her home.

I had planned to go back on Thursday, but I got the mother of all colds and couldn’t go with all my germs.
And I knew that might mean I just wouldn’t see her again before she died. But then again, I thought, people have been burying Marianna for the last 6 months.

On Friday morning, a friend called to tell me she had died earlier that morning. I hope it was as peaceful as can be.

And now, my head is a jumble of emotions, few of which make sense in any linear fashion.

And tomorrow, I will go to a fund raising walk for Ovarian Cancer Canada.
Last year, after the walk, everyone on the team went to visit Marianna at the Cancer Agency, because she was still in the hospital.
Her fight was intense, and, while it seems to have been so much longer, began and ended in a year.

So, R.I.P., Marianna.

You were so much tougher than me.

 Posted by at 9:06 pm
Sep 082007


It’s the last chance Texaco here, people. Tomorrow me and my peeps will be spending the morning in the sun, walking in the park and doing our bit to fundraise for Ovarian Cancer Canada. The timing is especially significant because we lost our friend, Marianna, yesterday morning, to ovarian cancer. She got diagnosed a year ago and she fought and fought and fought. I am in awe of what she went through. And so, tomorrow, we will go do our part.

If you’d like to help, you could sponsor me or anyone on the team.

Here’s the link for that gesture of random kindness:

That’s all for now. My head is a bit scrambly, and I’ll post something more sometime soon.

 Posted by at 10:55 am
Aug 152007

So, it’s been a very carcinogenic time lately.

How to explain.

My dad was re-admitted to the hospital for lung cancer/COPD/pneumonia.
That situation remains up in the air.

A friend, who was diagnosed with OVCA last summer, has been given a bed at the local cancer agency while she argues with them about whether or not she is palliative. It is her ferocious intent that she will go home and visit with her cats and work on her garden.
It strikes me that there are people who have, understandably I guess, taken that diagnosis and decided she is checking out, in spite of her kicking and refusal to just go along. I think that’s what people who aren’t sick need to do for themselves; start shifting their connections and, in some ways, pulling up their drawbridges.
I understand, and still, as someone who had plenty of people interact with me in a way that implied I had one foot in the grave, I will always back the long shot, cuz my friends, I am the long shot my own self.

So, that’s happening.
It’s weird on so many levels.
It’s a bit like staring at a fork in the road and seeing how someone else got the much rockier ride.
And do I feel any guilt about that?
More than you will ever know.

And then, last week, as all these things were shaking down, I made the ridiculous mistake of going through my “Copies to Self” file in my e-mail. I confess, I hadn’t gone through that file in several years. And in it, I found so many e-mails I had sent to women who have since died of ovarian cancer.
I’m counting four just off the top of my pointed little head.
Which leads me to wonder why I got to dodge that bullet and these other marvelous women took the hit.

And that’s not to say that OVCA didn’t completely destroy my former life.
It destroyed the most important relationship I have ever been in.
It messed with my work and my career aspirations.
It did strange things to my relationships with my friends.
And still, amid the fucking rubble that is my current life, I am the lucky one. Or one of them.

I’ve been really angry for the last few years about that which I have lost because of cancer. And unless you are a cancer survivor of some stripe, save yourself the keystrokes before you tell me something all sage-like, cuz you don’t understand cuz you can’t understand until you’ve done it.
Don’t mean to offend, just stating some facts.

Anyway… I have been angry. Cuz I was terrified.

And here is an enormous confession.

I remain terrified. Hence the crankiness.
Cuz whether you get it or not and whether you have already exhaled or not, for me… they still send me to a place at the cancer agency called the High Risk Clinic.
The folks at the cancer agency are only willing to say, “you are in the group of people which we view most optimistically”, and that’s when I live in a statistic of having a 20 – 30% chance of being around in 2011.
So, hey… I am one of the lucky ones.
And inside of all that, how weird is it to say that. But in spite of all the losses, I still get to wake up too early and go to work and curse that, and have my heart go in all its crazy directions, and if there are folks crying for me, it’s for things much less severe than because I left this mortal plain too soon.

So, I guess this makes me stronger.

It sure as hell has made me crazier.
And it has made me angrier. But I feel that I am turning a corner.
If I am gonna be here, then it’s time to get going and indulging, and letting go of that which torments me, to whatever extent that is possible.
But I feel so much less interested in being tormented by imbeciles and their presence in my peripheral vision.

Wish me luck.

And wish whatever you wish/hope for for the women still duking it out with this damned disease.

Rodger Dodger
over and out

 Posted by at 9:32 pm
Aug 012007


I just spent 4 glorious days in this groovy cabin. I actually spent 2 months in this very cabin last winter. Back then, it didn’t look quite as splendid. That was because there was snow all over the ground as well as fallen trees and crap. Much chain saw action was necessary back then.This weekend was completely glorious. I drove off the ferry and I felt my shoulders start to drop.

The cabin is kind of bare bones. And there is a different cabin that I sleep in when I am there.
But here is the pretty cool part of the story.

I ordered my copy of the last Harry Potter book from that evil bookslinger that sells things basically at cost. Being a cheap bastard, I opted for the free shipping feature.
Now, I work 12 hour shifts and, from what the folks at Amazon were telling me, the book was due to arrive on one of my work days. So I arranged with my landlordy that she would take delivery for me and I would give her a container of yummy corn chowder. She did her part by being home and available. But the Mensa dudes at Canada Post apparently couldn’t read the sign I left on the door of the building, saying to buzz the landlordy. So, in spite of the sign, they buzzed my place, I wasn’t home, and they sent my book to a local post office, where it is still waiting to be picked up.

That was a speed bump interfering with my plan for a perfect weekend, but that was okay because I had a big armful of books with me for my little vacation.

So, I was on Galiano, having an amazing dinner of halibut grilled on the barbeque and we started chatting pop culture. I mentioned being vexed by Amazon. My friends mentioned that they had a copy and, since they had already read it, it was available for reading.
Well, really, it was all I could do to stay and finish dinner.

And that’s how I spent my time away. Laying in a chair, in the sun, on the deck of a wonderful cabin, reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Gallows. It was marvelous.

The other wonderful thing about being at the cabin is… there are bees. Lots and lots of bees. They swarm around the fuscia plants at the cabin. You can stand right in the middle of them, and they just keep buzzing around, doing their bee thing, completely uninterested in hurting you, and rubbing their little bee feet together and making with the honey.
I liked that a whole lot.
And the eagles.
And the dragonflies.
And some brilliant yellow little birds that maybe were some sort of finch, I dunno. I just really liked them.
And the strange thing that kept making splashing sounds in the pond, but I never did figure out what it was.


And then one morning, I woke up and saw that a rat had chewed through the screen on my cabin window and had helped himself to a goodly chunk of my peach.
Well, what the hell.
I thought it was funny.
The owner of the property felt considerably less jolly about the whole affair. What with the rat-liness of the whole thing. Me, I thought it was an ambitious mouse but the owner of the property says rat, rat, rat.

And now I am back in the city. Did my week’s worth of work and now I am on holidays till August 13th.
It’s Gay Pride in my town, so that will take a big chunk of the first half of that time.
And then, after that, I may just toss some food in my cooler and head off camping by myself.

And then… if everything works out, which really remains to be seen, a week long kayaking trip later in the month.
Come September I know I will have to buckle down with work and school and having no life and so I plan on running a bit wild this summer and leaving the cats in foster care a bit too often.
I’m sure they’ll deal.

Happy Pride, folks.

 Posted by at 9:30 pm
Jul 082007

Well, not *me*, exactly. More like the Ovarian Cancer Canada folks.

See, me and some friends will go walk around the park and people will give us some money for that, because that’s how this works. And then the OCC folks will take that money and do researchy things and that will be good and, one hopes, someday soon, we can put all this nastiness behind us. And somewhere along the line, if you give some, unknown to me, amount of money, you get to tell the government to take it a bit easier on your income tax.
Sweet deal, no?

queering up cancer since 2004

 Posted by at 9:48 am
Jul 062007

I have been thinking about what my friend wrote here and one of the details that struck me was her experience of knowing she had cancer and having to wait for several weeks for her surgery.
And I realized that this was so completely different than my experience.

In retrospect, maybe everyone around me who was associated with the medical world was patting me on the head and playing alcoholic family, but even as they had me count backwards from 100, I never believed I had cancer.

Here’s what I did know.

I knew I had something weird and palpable right beside my right hip bone and I knew it was becoming a hindrance to my sex life, hence my eventual willingness to have it checked out. (This mass, gentle reader, would turn out to be a benign tumour, living in the middle of a wasteland of ovarian cancer. Can you say “Irony saved my life”? I know I can.)

I know I went for an ultrasound and the technician actually couldn’t capture an image of my ovaries, because of the moss-like spread of the OVCA, but I didn’t completely grok what the problem was at that point, thinking instead that it was my great benign tumour of hair and teeth and other disgusting anatomical strays.

I recall being somewhat taken aback when, after meeting with my surgeon prior to my surgery, he sent me for bloodwork across the street at the cancer agency. That was the first time I ever walked in the building and I was ready to have a full on melt down and explain to anyone and everyone why I really didn’t belong in that building. I consoled myself with the (idiotic) belief that this was the closest lab to the hospital and that’s why he sent me there (conveniently overlooking the full scale lab right across the street).

I recall my then gf telling me she was worried and me telling her that it would all be okay, and honestly believing that, explaining that “things like that don’t happen to me.”

So, by the time anyone told me I had cancer, the bulk of it had already been cut out of me and was on its way to a tumour bank where it will live with other tumours and scientists will take it off the shelf and figure out a solution for all this anguish.

People with cancer often speak of feeling like their body betrayed them and there were people who asked me if that was my experience. In fact, I felt like I had betrayed my body; like I hadn’t done enough to look after my body in a toxic fast-food world. I have never felt like my body let me down.

In the long run, I made my body sit there and absorb terrible poisons so we could just hope to carry on. And my body, against all odds, did what I hoped it would do.

That’s just a strange detail that has been on my mind these last few days.

I went to visit my pal at the hospital. It was handy because I had an appointment with my oncologist, as weird and ironic luck would have it. I had lots of old ghosts walking with me between the hospital and the cancer agency. And it is completely overwhelming how many things have happened in my life since the first time I wandered from the hospital to the cancer agency for bloodwork. One really significant detail was seeing my reflection in a window and noticing that I was walking alone.
It’s not my ideal, but it’s the best case scenario these days.

And, for those who follow these details at home, things are cool in cancer land for now.

 Posted by at 7:44 pm
Jul 032007

I woke up this morning to an e-mail from a friend who is having a double mastectomy because she was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She is having her surgery today.
It just sucks.

If you’d like to read about what’s up with Mary, you can go:


More later.

 Posted by at 6:14 am
Jun 132007

You know, I really like my bosses and my non-bosses who exist in a parallel universe where they have to (apparent) authority over me, but tonight, I could take every one of them over my knee and spank them till my hand was raw.

I’m just sayin’.

And… that’s *all* I’m sayin’.

 Posted by at 7:47 pm
Jun 102007

Last week, while screwing around on my PC, I suffered an all too familiar screen freeze. I quickly wrapped my hand around the CPU to flip the ‘any key’ and that was all fine. It was just that the re-flipping produced absolutely no results. Just a big black screen on my monitor staring back at me uselessly. I was at first optimistic that there may be a miraculous and spontaneous re-birth, but no.

It’s times like this when it sucks to work 12 hour shifts because I had to wait till Thursday to even get a chance to take my computer in to the shop. And I must say, it was freaky to spend some time sans computer and realize my huge reliance on the beastly machine.
For example, I had a request to make some soup for a friend who is sick, and I originally thought, “sure, there is that yummy black bean soup I have been living off lately”. But then I realized that the recipe was online (at, in case you are looking for a great website for recipes) so instead I had to guttle around in the freezer and find a couple of tupperware containers of Sportswoman soup, which is a recipe known only to me, and while I am sure it did the trick for my friend, it was amazing to keep slamming into my assumption that anything that needed to be done could be done online.

I don’t know about you, but I am fairly internet dependent and I would say that I get an urge to do something, whether that is write an e-mail or look something up, at least twenty times a day.
In a big picture sort of way, I am glad that I went without, if only to demonstrate where I am at with all that.
And I am also happy because I spent way more time just laying on my couch reading books, rather than reading, well, who knows what sort of mindless shite on the computer.

Summer is making itself known here in my city, if only in a tentative way, and I have started exploring some vacation options for myself. Stay tuned on that score.
A vacation seems sorely needed.
Work has been especially gruelling lately, dealing with a lot of death in the work community. And it was made even more freaky when one of my co-workers was assaulted by one of the folks we work with. The colleague received 30 stitches to his face, many of which were around and inside his eye.
It’s crap like that that makes a person jump back a bit and say, “whoa… that could have been me. and why am I doing this, exactly?”
Of course, we do it for more complicated reasons than I can explain right here, but still, I think everyone I work with was horrified that someone who is known to us could do such an awful thing to a co-worker, and a totally nice man.

So, that’s me, in a nutshell. As always, it’s a mix of good and sort of complicated.

Okay, amigos. It’s a work night and there are dishes to do and counters to wipe before I lay my scruffy head down for the night.


 Posted by at 9:15 pm
May 272007

I have been so out of it for the last while that, with some degree of surprise, I realize that spring has pretty much uncoiled and sprung and is patiently waiting for the tap on the shoulder from summer, at which point spring will wander elsewhere until we need it again next year. I’m not sure where it goes. Maybe it slides into a big Rubbermaid container and gets pushed under the bed. Who knows?

I moved into my place on March 1st and while I knew I had a stunning view, it’s these days when the sun shines for a long time that really drives that point home. My view is excellent during the day and also at night, when I can see the lights on the bridge off in the distance and the ships in the harbour down below me. I have had days when I drag my sorry ass home from work, just run down and exhausted, and walked in the door and had the view both overwhelm and cheer me.

The cats have a tiny balcony and they lay out there and come in all warm and half-baked from the sunshine.
They lay around in the enormous pools of sunlight that come in. It just delights me every time I see them stretched out in the sun. They seem content here, and I am happy about that.

I have been hitting the gym a lot lately, finally getting back in that groove which I fell out of when I moved. Getting the routine established has been harder this time than other returns, but I think I have it down now. I have also been riding my mountain bike a lot lately. I realized about a month ago that it takes me exactly the same amount of time to drive my truck to work, park and then walk the 4 blocks to my work site as it does to get on my bike and blow all those pedestrians off the sidewalk… and when the cost of gas went up to $1.20 a litre, well, the stupidity of driving my truck was just too clear, even to me.

And I have been re-reading the Harry Potter books, in anticipation of the final book’s release in a few weeks. It amazes me how she created a series where some small detail in the second book will come back into focus in the 6th book. It also amazes me how many of the details I have forgotten over the last couple of years but I blame the chemo for that. I really, really like the HP series and think J,K.Rowling has done an amazing thing for literacy. And I will be both happy and sad when the final book is released, because I will have it, but then it will be over. But I think old JK probably deserves some quiet time with her family and loved ones. It may be a long time till she can have that, but wrapping up the HP series will probably provide some light at the end of the tunnel.

That’s it from me. I am feeling pretty optimistic about the summer and ways that I can spend a whole lot of time away from here and relaxing elsewhere. Money is always a consideration, but I have a few things in mind and I am hoping that I spend the summer making special guest appearances at work rather than being a regularly scheduled guest.

And on a somewhat sad note, I got an e-mail from the folks at saying that they were suspending service to clients who were not in the USA. For those who don’t know, Pandora was a music genome project and it was a brilliant way to turn yourself on to new music. As a user, you would create your own ‘stations’ based on an artist or album that you liked and Pandora would search its files and play music that other users had rated as being similar. So, I had created an “Etta James” station and got turned on to other women blues singers. Same for creating a “Leo Kottke” station, or even… a “Metallica” station. I don’t really understand why users have to be in the USA, but apparently it had something to do with copyright issues. But if you are south of the 49th, you should really make the most of this. And me, I am just hoping the resolve whatever deets need to be resolved because it was such a great thing. Just pick an artist that your are in the mood for, plunk the name in, and wander around your place listening to great music.
They have to bring it back!
Fingers crossed.

Rodger Dodger
over and out.

 Posted by at 7:03 pm
May 222007

So, someone sent me a blog comment which basically amounted to them telling me that I should work on a more prolific blog presence. That posting once a month was, perhaps, less than ideal.
Having given it some thought, I think she is right.

How to catch you up on the last month…
A couple of weeks ago, I went to Seattle for an ex-gf’s 60th birthday. At first I was horrified because I thought this meant that I was old, but what I realized is that it really means she is a chicken hawk.
Being in Seattle was good on a lot of levels. Part of what was good was seeing friends who have been in the same relationships for the last twenty years and seeing how they interact. It’s not perfect and sometimes they bicker, but at the end of the day, it’s pretty sweet.
I confess that I try to learn as I go when it comes to those big time relationships. I kinda got knocked back to kindergarten, but that’s okay. I can hone my humility some. It’s still really interesting to me to see how people interact when they have been together for a long, long time. I think it’s easy to get in an absent-minded groove and to be upset about whatever grumbly and annoying things are messing with your utopian vision today. It’s hard to remember to be kind and sweet to each other.
Thankfully, I am no longer put to that test, but for those of you in relationships, I think you should try to remember to be sweet to your sweetie. How else will they know that you care if you don’t extend yourself?

On other fronts, this week has been a week of coming out all over again.
I don’t know how to explain it and this thing has certainly consumed a lot of my mental and emotional energy and… if it needs to be said publicly then let me be the one to do it but after a long haul with sobriety, I have decided that I want to see if I can be just like a normal person.
Like I said, I don’t know how to explain it nor do I know how much I need to explain to the general public.
The details that are available for the general public are that I am awfully tired of being the person who is always different than everyone else in the group.
It’s also true that I have felt more and more isolated with the whole sobriety thing over the last few years, so that ultimately,crossing that line seemed like a way to re-connect with people.
It’s an experiment, and if I screw up, I know where to go to drink bad coffee and be hugged non-consentually. But in the short term, this is where I am at.


 Posted by at 9:33 pm
Apr 222007

For the unfortunate group of folks who show up as my friends on LJ, I am truly sorry for the fact that my recent attempt at a website tweak, which would allow cross-posting from my site to my LJ page, well, rumour has it that things went haywire and people got buried in 5 screens worth of old news about me and my life.
I do apologize for that.

And to set the record straight, I did get hit by a bus, but that was 2 years ago and everything is fine in that regard now.
And nope, Elaine and I did not get back together. Those things we wrote about going through cancer stuff together are now historical documents.

It was sort of bizarre, in a gruelling sort of way, for me to read all that stuff again. To think back to the beginning of the process and how freaky that was and how I had no clue what to expect or if I would even be alive today, and just try to muster the courage to put one foot in front of the other and do it.
At the time, people told me I was brave, and I remember thinking, “What other choice do I have?”
It’s weird to look back at it all.
Thinking about all the people who helped us along the way.
Thinking about all the tests and the terror and the uncertainty.
Thinking about the side effects; the memory loss and the neuropathy.
The whole event made my head tingle in some ways I hadn’t been ready for.
And that’s sort of interesting, since it’s my life I was talking about.

Anyway, for the folks who I inundated, I do apologize.

On other fronts, I saw both my gyno oncologist and my folks at the High Risk clinic (who follow me and my BRCA mutation and where that has mutated to at any given moment) and both camps are happy with my blood work and my mammograms and all that happy crap.
So, that’s good news.

And it’s spring, and I like spring. All that new life and all those fresh starts, it’s almost inspiring.

Oh, and I had a birthday in there, too. Which is another reason I like spring.

That’s it, that’s all.

 Posted by at 3:33 pm
Apr 032007

Last week, in a spontaneous moment, I confessed to two co-workers that I owned this domain name/website/blog/corner of the internet universe.
And then I instantly had a Homer Simpson “Doh” reaction and thought, “Was that the wisest thing I could have done?”
See, for years, I have read the blog entries of my OVCA sisters and thought, “Man, how sweet would that be to just say, “My partner is an amazing id-jit” or “My co-worker is as useless as tits on a bull.”
Long have I envied the candor which my more anonymous compatriots have brought to their blogs.

So, there it was, hanging there. And I wondered, “Did I ever say, ‘Damnation… I work with a legion of fools and wankers!”?
Cuz, frankly, I have had my moments of thinking that. As have we all.

Anyhow… I am at least partially outed as a OVCA blogger, at least at work.

And this outing has sparked a couple of cancer related conversations, which have caused me to think, even three years after the fact.

So, here’s a thing I should say.

Sorry I have been so crabby. I tried to be all Lance Armstrong-like, but unless you know what it’s like to lay in bed for the best part of a year, wondering if you are going to croak like all the statistics strongly suggest, well, I am not sure you get to be critical.

I took a book out of the library recently. It was a Cancer Survivor’s Notebook, or some such title. I really should memorize the title because somehow the book got water damaged and it ended up costing me over $30.
And after all that, I didn’t even read much of the book, since I was trying to get ready to move. But one wee tidbit that I did read was about how cancer patients/survivors can come across as angry, because we are so absolutely terrified right to the bone of dropping dead. So, angry is really about scared. Scared in a way that you can’t know till you get here.
So, forgive me. And forgive any other crabby seriously ill person you encounter.
It is frightening in a way that you can’t know yet.

More later.

 Posted by at 9:37 pm
Mar 242007

The rain finally stopped for a few minutes and the sun came through the clouds and I wanted to upload a picture of the view from my window.


In real life, the buildings down below don’t really get in the way of the view.

It’s pretty sweet, and maybe the rain will let up so I can have more swell view days and evenings.

 Posted by at 6:09 pm