Archive for June, 2012

From Matter to Substance

Thursday, June 14th, 2012

 “The Lord said, if you build me a tree house, I’ll see you never run out of material.”…Horace Burgess

"Near Crossville, Tennessee stands the world's largest treehouse. Horace Burgess, a local landscape architect, began building the structure in 1994 around an 80 foot high oak tree that was 12 feet around at the base, as well as a few other nearby trees. The treehouse itself is 97 feet high and has 11 stories!" KOS

 

I have been racking my brain trying to decide what to write about for this blog.  It’s not that I don’t have enough material, quite the contrary.  Like my medical bills, I have more than I want.  

For example, I was thinking of writing a blog about how I recently went off Tamoxifin.  Not only does it cause uterine cancer, it is on the known carcinogen list by the International Agency for Research on Cancer, along with Arsenic, Benzene, Formaldehyde, plutonium, alcohol and salted fish, Chinese style. 

I could also write about how I found a study that debunks “The Secret.”  Negative thoughts are actually good for you, the more extreme, the better.  They release “natural killer cells” that attack and kill unwanted intruders such as cancer.  So go ahead people, get mad!  Do not repress those emotions.  Blocked Qi (pronounced chee), or stagnated energy only increases your likely hood of getting breast cancer.

I could write a blog about how I worry my breast cancer will come back and that it will spread to my bones or brain.  I sometimes wonder if a headache is simply because I am dehydrated or is it because the cancer has found its way to my cerebral cortex.  Maybe my sore elbow is actually cancer eating away at my humerus, not from knocking it on the counter the other day.  And, if it spreads before I finish raising my kiddos, who will get them to school, basketball, poetry classes, and horseback riding lessons?  Who will cook dinner for them and help them to decide on what classes to take?  Who will stay up late at night with them watching movies or discussing the absurdity of the so called American Dream?  Who will hug them when their girlfriend breaks up with them? 

Or, what if I write about how everything will eventually catch up with you at one point in your life or another.  You can run but you sure can’t hide.  Like the grim reaper, the bill collectors will find you, those cancer cells will multiply and that fat will accumulate if you keep eating Twinkies. 

I could write about how cancer changed me.  It has been a turning point in my life.  I am truly not the same person I was before my diagnosis.  And, it has taken a physical toll on me as well. My feet hurt from neuropathy and a tongue on my left nipple feels like razorblades.  Not sure if it is better than not feeling anything at all; which is the case of my right nipple.  I have also gained my weight back to pre-cancer days.  My little muffin top is back.  I either need to head over to Buckle and shop for some new jeans or stop stuffing my emotions with late night handfuls of dry peanut butter puff cereal straight from the box.

Truly, I have enough material for ten blogs. 

It would be fun to write about The Hunger Games; a dystopian society, heroines and far out fashion.  And, I admit it.  I am a big fan of Katniss.  Or, I could tell you about the next book our mom’s book group is reading, if you haven’t already read it yourself, “50 Shades of Gray,” and how Gray is the Marqui de Sade reincarnated and how anyone can buy porn at Ralphs or Costco.  And, did you know that dead Koi are too big to flush down the toilet but make a great fertilizer, and Buck, decked out in his cowboy hat and chaps is my new hero?  You can stream him from Netflix.  English riding is much harder than it looks and feeding a stray cat is not a good idea.  By the way, make sure to double check the numbers on your clippers before clipping.  Three is not the new eight.  And, never ever ever put dark wood floors in your house if you own three cats with long light hair, use a cucumber instead of a pestle to juice, or puree raw chocolate avocado pudding in a blender without the lid securely fastened.  I’m just saying. 

One last thing, I would like to write about how complete strangers, all women, come up to me at the grocery store, post office, book store, everywhere every day to tell me how much they love my hair and wish they were brave enough to wear their hair like mine.  I don’t think the majority of men like my hair, however, except my husband.  They rarely flirt with me these days unless they are extremely secure in their masculinity, over the age of 70 or hoping to be invited to girl on girl.  Oh, Oh, two more things than I promise I am done.  I am constantly mistaking the wire in my nose from my nose piercing as a booger and I truly hope the Mayan calendar is wrong.  The Hobbit comes out in theatres that day and I don’t want to miss it.  

So, see, like Horace Burgess, I am never lacking in material.  I have plenty to write about, worry about, complain about and laugh about; my life is a smorgasbord of crazy, interesting, profound and the ridiculous.  

I guess that’s a good thing for a writer.  It gives you a lot of material.  And, with material come lessons.  And, with lessons comes growth.  And growth hurts.  In other words, from matter to substance.

My friend Raundi and I made a toast on New Year’s Eve this year. “To no more growth,” we cheered, as the fireworks boomed in the background and we clanked champagne glasses.   But, after these last six months, apparently the universe has other plans for us.  At least, I hope there is a plan and that all these lessons are not in vain.  In all honesty, I was hoping for something kinda big, like the Tree House.  You know, that A-ha moment when a million light bulbs brighter than the sun flash before your eyes, lighting your way, out of the dark and into true enlightenment.  It’s the only way I can make sense of all of this.  But whether there is a huge a-ha moment or many little a-ha moments, one thing is for sure, I will never run out of material for my blog.  Damn!