My Scars, My Teeth, and My… You: Week 2 of Doing It Alone Is Quite Yummy, But…

“Everybody has somebody. It could be a friend, a lover, a spouse, a writing partner… Sometimes they exist to comfort you. Sometimes they exist to drive you absolutely mad. [Sometimes they exist to help you find your center].” ~ Terry Pratchett [and moi]


Some bits of me
I love most—the broken,
the hurt, the sacrificed…
the soft and dark and wild,
the bits of me that make me
everything I am.

I shared that wee bit of lived poetry on Instagram, a day or two ago, with this note. And I was thinking about those words—the broken, the hurt, the sacrificed… the soft and dark and wild… everything I am—while I sat on a chemo chair, feeling the drugs march into my bloodstream, readying to fight the dirty fight, doing all they can do (all we can do) to win that war.

I thought about the words of a friend, who said, “the doctors are making sure to do everything they can to rid you of bad cells. Focus on that, and envision the cells vaporizing… your positivity will do the rest. You are too ALIVE for it to have a chance.” I closed my eyes and smiled, played with my Piano Man’s hair, and let all my ALIVE vaporize the unwanted.

I was so exhausted when I started the infusion today. Not so much because of the actual treatment, but because yesterday, I had lymphedema physical therapy, cooked my meals for the next few days, and spent way too much time editing and rewriting some old and some just-born words on my new walk-and-write! treadmill (my Piano Man is an enabler of ink-monsters).

That weariness was the reason why I did not write this post this morning. Not because I couldn’t do it, but because if I had done it then, I would’ve gotten home and gone straight to bed. Not the best thing for my flesh and bones and brain after chemotherapy. I can’t really exercise now (my feet are too swollen), but I can stretch and massage my limbs, and then do the same for my brain (by reading and writing and such…).

So, to those of you who have said that I’m “awesome” and “inspiring” for sharing my life-kissed words, I say: “Feel the wild energy carried by every word you’ve attached to my armor, embrace all that power, make it part of your own shield.” Because, you see, today, my desire to share words with you was the only thing keeping me from falling victim to my blankets a lot earlier than I should. Today, a lot of my awesome comes directly from you.

Slowly, your encouragement has become a bit of me I value almost as much as my stunning scars and my striking teeth (and if you know me at all, then you understand just how valuable this is to me).

Thank you, my awesome, inspiring, amazing, fantastic… Wicked Luvs.


Doing It Alone Is Quite Yummy, But… (week 2)

Want to join the sharing yum? It’s easy. Just write a post about something or someone that makes your life better. If nothing specific comes to mind, by all means, go with what I went: tell us about how a cyber-friend (or a bunch of them) might’ve helped you get through some really tough days.


I value me
(all my bits),
rough spots and all.


Of the Love We Get and Give…

I was reaching for my favorite mug when a combination of nerve pains shot through my right arm and made me lose control of my hand for an instant. I dropped my favorite mug. My favorite mug landed in the sink… So, it didn’t completely shatter. I was left with two large pieces and some bits of ceramic.

“Neuropathy is a sneaky bastard”, I said to my Piano Man, who had run to the kitchen to investigate the commotion.

“You know it’s the chemo”, he said, reaching for me, stroking my shoulders as we both watched my arm twitch. When I tried picking up the pieces, my Piano Man touched my hand. “You don’t want to nick your skin. I will take care of this.” I handed the trash bag I had been holding. “We’re not throwing it out”, he said, and the outrage in his voice made me smile. “You can turn it into a planter.” I loved him more in that moment for those perfect words. I love him for so many reasons. I love, love, love him because he gets me.

This morning, I found my favorite scarred mug next to my coffee maker. My Piano Man wholed all the pieces before leaving for work. With a face full of grins and a heart bursting with love for a man who loves and knows me well, I filled the cracks with sparkles… and turned the new planter into the home of a wee succulent that I rescued (or plant-napped *cough*) last summer.


Earlier today, a friend told me how terrible she feels whenever she needs my help these days… We both know how little time and energy cancer treatment allows me. I reminded her that there have been days when I would’ve stayed in bed if she hadn’t needed me. She helps me free myself from traps made of pillows and sheets and rather costly comfort. Helping her helps my brain and heart remember that a friend needs me. There is wild healing magic in circles made of love we get and give (and of friends who whole each other better).

This belief is what always inspires me to give all I can and celebrate all I get. And speaking of gifts and wonders, I have a handful to be extra thankful for:

I’m grateful for the gift of my Piano Man
and my new favorite planter

I’m grateful for GJ (short for Gina Jr.)
a dolly crafted with love and yarn (mostly with wild love, I am sure)

I’m grateful for Gina, for winged thoughts,
and for stories inked with me in mind

I’m grateful for Rommy
and for creepy Gorey books that make me grin like a lunatic

I’m grateful for Susie
and for red and black skully ornaments that cheer me to no end

I’m so grateful for all of you, who keep on feeding my ink with your reading presence… even when I can’t be as reciprocal as I’ve been in the past. You, my Wicked Luvs, rocketh very mucho and heal me even mostest. Thank you.