Op-Ed: Regarding Cancer and Making Personal Connections

I’ve received so many amazing letters from people who read my blog or found me through another online channel like my Etsy shop, YeuxDeux Vintage, or on Instagram or Twitter or Facebook. They read about my diagnosis and my current life and find common ground, and I’m honored to communicate with people who were touched enough by my life to personally reach out. I appreciate their candor and I am especially humbled by the emotional outpourings of some of the communications I receive. Unnecessarily, their email begins with an apology for a “stranger” so openly sharing their experiences with me. But are we really strangers?… Read More Op-Ed: Regarding Cancer and Making Personal Connections

Canferatu: The Prequel

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… Read More Canferatu: The Prequel

One Fresh Hell, Hold the Tomatoes

Yearning for my partner’s support and the kind of tender and caring love many of which many metastatic sisters write and blog about, I now look over at him, home in bed, and find one whose dark, inky emotions remain locked away inside his heart, like the stars behind clouds in a dark night sky. He lays there disengaged, thinking to himself about things that cause long bouts of sighing, and the simmering anger of so many men who find themselves bitten by such disorders.… Read More One Fresh Hell, Hold the Tomatoes

Sloop John B. aka Let Me Go Home

So hoist up the John B’s sail See how the main sail sets Call for the Captain ashore Let me go home, let me go home I want to go home Well I feel so broke up I want to go home Hoist up the John-b sail. See how the main sail sets, I groan… Read More Sloop John B. aka Let Me Go Home

The Longest Goodbye

He called it the longest goodbye. When my husband came to me in the kitchen he looked fore lorn, bright blue eyes spilling clear Caribbean blue waters down the white smooth skin of his cheeks. Waves hitting the sand.  His emotions, usually saved for “some other time,” overwhelmed and weighed heavy on me and pulled… Read More The Longest Goodbye