Did You Ever Think Life Was Gonna Be This Way?

I have a confession to make: I've been trying to write a memoir about my life with cancer.  My second confession is that said memoir isn't very good. As a writer, a reader, a parent, a friend, a daughter, a patient - my failures thus far are frustrating and annoying me to no end. I had such big plans! An ambitious scope and agenda! An excellent, fancy title and all sorts of intellectual discussion about that title and why it matters. But I had an epiphany yesterday, as I sat down to write  yet again and wound up confounded: I need to stop trying so hard. I envisioned this project as a Project, a Statement, a Masterpiece.  And these expectations have lead to some cringe-worthy and overblown results. Ugh. The good news is that writers get to keep writing, and none other than Stephen King himself has given me permission! He told me, "you can, you should, and if you're brave enough to start, you will .  Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative

Somewhere, right now, someone is getting life changing news. Is it good news - “The biopsy was benign.” “The treatment worked!” “You’re NED.” - and they are exhaling all the way down to their toes? or bad - “Your scans show growth.” “You have cancer.” “We weren’t able to get all of it.” - and the inhale is sharp and tight, and they can’t get enough air? Each of these possibilities are becoming reality right now, somewhere. Tred lightly today; someone is having their heart broken. Someone is lighter than air. Someone is bleeding themselves into yet another test tube, and drumming their fingers while they wait for the bloodwork to come back. Someone is losing her hair. Someone is accepting exuberant hugs from their children and crying huge, heated tears. Someone is taking a tentative step into the next chapter of their life right now. Tred softly.  Speak quietly, in reverence for the pain. Tred softly; let the energy of the great world thrum through the feet of those who need to be groun