I can’t take credit for this. It originated with God, first book, Old Testament. How many times have we read the story of creation, how the Almighty formed the earth with His very own hands, shaped the creatures of the land, sky and sea before finally, making man? Indeed, within the first few chapters, we are given some pretty important lessons about how we are expected to live. And not all of them relate to that darned apple. I have been listening to a Biblical podcast recommended to me by one of my medical team. The scholars dissect the meaning behind those familiar passages, and I admittedly find their take on things fascinating. But it has also given me some of food for my own thought.
I am going to a holiday party given by my bestie in two weeks. I am looking forward to it. The woman knows how to make folks feel at home in her home. She is a relaxed hostess with a generous spirit, so it will be a fun time. The food will be great, and I look forward to seeing mutual friends. 'Tis the season, right? It has been a while since I have had a get-together of my own like that. The reasons are pretty obvious, but I guess having people over is among the many things I miss about my pre-cancer life. It is fun to play Martha Stewart on occasion, to drag out the seldom-used china and serving platters, and cook up those favorite dishes. Let’s face it: nothing brings people together li
Two years ago today, I was wheeled into an operating room for debulking surgery. For those unfamiliar with the term, it means removing as much of the cancerous tissue and tumor as possible. I needed nine weeks of chemotherapy before my doctor would even attempt mine. I tend to do things on a grand scale, even cancer. I will spare you the details, but when they finished, I was pretty much like a fishbowl in the abdominal area. It is an interesting bit of imagery, right? But that’s not the point here. It is an anniversary, one of many that has come with this disease. I tend to commemorate them all because doing so is a chance to celebrate life. But it is also a chance to be introspective, to
I was eight years old, visiting my grandma, who answered the door with several band aid strips strategically placed on her face. I thought that she had been terribly injured until she smiled broadly and welcomed me inside. My curiosity was piqued, of course, but since I had been taught to respect my elders, I waited for what I thought was an appropriate amount of time before I asked the obvious question. “It is helping me get rid of wrinkles,” she simply said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, that the secret to defying gravity rested in that red, white, and blue box. My young brain couldn’t figure out how it did so, but I took her at her word. And to this day, I can’t lo
