One of my favorite characters in The Sopranos was unquestionably Aida Turturro‘s portrayal of Tony’s sister Janice. Their fictional relationship reminds me of my own relationship with my brother, but that’s a story for another time.
Someone recently asked me what was going on with my blog, and it struck me that I’ve been remiss in blogging for almost four full months. Let me tell you why: I started working full-time last May, and between freelancing for so long, and all the vile medical treatments I had to undergo post-cancer diagnosis, I was tired of pushing myself to write. Yes, some writers have to push themselves, and I count myself among those who do. I’ve also realized that for the time being, I don’t miss writing.
Those of you who are friends with me on Facebook know that I’ve been very vocal lately. I’ve taken an active anti-Trump stance, and at present, I am content to leave the heavy lifting to others. I will disseminate writing that I feel needs to be read, but for now, I will not be doing any of it myself. I’ve shoveled a lot of shit against a very strong tide for a long time now, and I need a break. For now, I am putting some long-dormant skills of mine to good use – for people who appreciate it – and to maintain a level of sanity I’d denied myself for too long. I no longer have to chase my income; it comes to me once a week without fail.
“Toodle-fucking-oo” for now. But remember, I will be back. And I will have lots to say.
This essay was originally published on November 13, 2014.
Today is my tenth chemotherapy treatment. Six more left, and it can’t be over with soon enough.
Yesterday, I had lunch with a friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago and did not need chemotherapy or radiation as part of her treatment. We talked about how much we’ve learned since our respective diagnoses, and how ignorant we were about breast cancer before it changed our lives. For example, we both thought breast cancer always meant you had a tumor, or tumors, in your breast(s). She had them, I didn’t. Moreover, neither of us completely understood how serious lymph node involvement is, and how it affects the treatment scenario after surgery. Her cancer hadn’t spread to her lymph nodes; mine did, which is one of the reasons why she didn’t need chemo, and I’m sitting here, accessed, bagged, and dripping.
Continue reading Chemotherapy Leg Part 10
This essay was originally published on August 20, 2014. It was originally titled, “How Could This Happen?”
I am one week removed from my first chemotherapy session, and the title to this post is something I asked myself on a few occasions during that time. I don’t lament in the “why me?” sense, but more in the I-don’t-have-a-genetic-predisposition-for-breast-cancer-so-how-could-this-happen? sense. Also, the line reminds me of one of my favorite episodes of The Sopranos.
Continue reading How Did I Get Breast Cancer?
This essay was originally published on August 4, 2010.
I am embarrassed to say I actually own a copy of the above book. I think I purchased it when I was about to finish my undergraduate degree, or right before I started graduate school. I can’t remember. That just goes to show you how important a volume it is in my collection. I pitched lots of books in the moves I’ve made over the past couple of years, and somehow, this one survived. It’s a wonder it didn’t wind up in the Goodwill store, but I’ll just chalk it up to being one of those random mysteries of life. Like how my Uncle Matt’s Brooklyn bookmark has been with me for about 8 years now. It’s the only bookmark I use.
Continue reading Tomato Sauce For Your Ass