In which our heroine finds herself clutched in the monster’s filthy, razor sharp claws, afraid for her life. Introduction: The scripting process begins and ends This narrative slowly opens and possibly took several years for the writer to realize the finished script. Editing the story of a life continues beyond publication, past the timeline of
Tag: cancer caretakers
Traversing my inner space wearing the lens of metastatic disease, my inner eye wanders into dark places at times. The glasses have me reading invisibilities into ideas that have no real importance. Ideas such as what my life’s purpose what could I possibly serve the world when at the moment I was diagnosed with #metastatic breast cancer three years ago, my needs far outweigh my ability to give. Many days my questions return only an inner sigh of response. My contributions and defining myself and my roles becomes so foggy, so unclear to me.
The Gracie Foundation – a gift from heaven from a woman who left a legacy of love and a little treat of relief to those of us finding our own way through metastatic breast cancer. Nominations for the care package at www.thegraciefoundationinc.org
How does one learn to reason with depression? I’d like to share with you a story about a confused partner who after the passing of her arbitrary three-year deadline falls into s state of incredible aftermath. She unreasonably and unfortunately becomes inconsolable with wave after wave of ugly accusations hurled from across a house she lives in with this depressed man who she no longer knows, or even knows what she feels for him anymore.
Depression and cancer. The locks to my prison, to which keys do not exist; there’s no cure, and there’s no future with happiness together as a team, the team I really counted on – but as Einstein said not all things that can be counted, should.
My time to lie down and die as prescribed, only known as “patient.” From stage left, enter: Sutured together in an unholy friendship. Acquainted by bones held lines closely to my chest. “the role of Physical unrest today played by a courtesan,” A voice wails from behind the curtain velveteen, Dust heavy, too long, bloody