i remember thinking "be careful not to break it" and as i flipped over the frame on the kitchen island to properly align the photo that would hopefully brighten my mother's day even a little, because what else could i possibly do to help that wasn't being done, it shattered. i froze. i stopped and just stared at the way the glass had broken. long strips of knife like strips... sharp at every corner... like shiny edged daggers aligned in a beautiful fan shape. one had speared me in the thigh (a scar that never ceases to remind me of that moment) and was sticking straight up and i just watched it for what felt like minutes but in reality was seconds. I wasn't sure what my next tactical movement should be but also wanted to live in that escapist moment for as long as i could.
what a relief in an odd way to pause all the chaos and fear and panic that raced through my head constantly and stare at the beautiful fan shape of glass sticking out of my thigh. i wanted to live in that moment. i wanted to swim in that moment, to never leave it... like a good book you want never to end.
my mother... my mother... my mother... my smiling, nurturing, encouraging, role modeling best friend and the woman i had been obsessed with and based all my thoughts, life outlooks, and opinions on since i was born was going through the unthinkable - fighting a battle with metastasized cancer that had come back like some unchecked demon viking to wreak havoc on an otherwise perfect, generous, positive being.
we were there every day. all of us. the father, the mother, the daughter, the surgeon, the son, the daughter, the son-in-law, the son-in-law to be, the caretaker, the other doctor, the healer, the nutritionist, the cook, the woman that helped you imagine healing, the modern scientist, the ayurvedic healer, the friend, the other friend, the many friends, the people with tears, the people with strength, the idiot brother who called so say goodbye in the midst of her battle (who i try to forgive every day) as if she already was going as if it was decided (idiot monster nightmmare that he is), the helpers, the protein shakes when the chemo hurt her GI too much, the organic,the vegan, the many books on cancer, the injustice, the shock, the things unsaid, the managing of a grand mal... and i just wanted to live in that glassy, shiny, dagger in my thigh moment for as long as i could..
how did this all begin? where does cancer begin? on a toxic railroad in a 3rd world city? do we pick up something as children, store it in our fat for 20 yrs and then it becomes cancer? are we hormonally imbalanced and perimenopause makes it happen? what are the secrets the centenarians hold? why do some centenarians drink and smoke and still live forever... why should i be good if it doesn't up my chances at immortality.
This process brought me to where I am now... happy in my CRON world of Anti-Aging I call it. The older I get the harder i CRON and find new ways to use the plastic surgeons magical filler. i want to spill all my secrets...
http://pinkaliciousintentions.blogspot.com - out (drops microphone loudly on the floor, smiles seductively, and exits stage left) #TurnDownForWhat
what a relief in an odd way to pause all the chaos and fear and panic that raced through my head constantly and stare at the beautiful fan shape of glass sticking out of my thigh. i wanted to live in that moment. i wanted to swim in that moment, to never leave it... like a good book you want never to end.
my mother... my mother... my mother... my smiling, nurturing, encouraging, role modeling best friend and the woman i had been obsessed with and based all my thoughts, life outlooks, and opinions on since i was born was going through the unthinkable - fighting a battle with metastasized cancer that had come back like some unchecked demon viking to wreak havoc on an otherwise perfect, generous, positive being.
we were there every day. all of us. the father, the mother, the daughter, the surgeon, the son, the daughter, the son-in-law, the son-in-law to be, the caretaker, the other doctor, the healer, the nutritionist, the cook, the woman that helped you imagine healing, the modern scientist, the ayurvedic healer, the friend, the other friend, the many friends, the people with tears, the people with strength, the idiot brother who called so say goodbye in the midst of her battle (who i try to forgive every day) as if she already was going as if it was decided (idiot monster nightmmare that he is), the helpers, the protein shakes when the chemo hurt her GI too much, the organic,the vegan, the many books on cancer, the injustice, the shock, the things unsaid, the managing of a grand mal... and i just wanted to live in that glassy, shiny, dagger in my thigh moment for as long as i could..
how did this all begin? where does cancer begin? on a toxic railroad in a 3rd world city? do we pick up something as children, store it in our fat for 20 yrs and then it becomes cancer? are we hormonally imbalanced and perimenopause makes it happen? what are the secrets the centenarians hold? why do some centenarians drink and smoke and still live forever... why should i be good if it doesn't up my chances at immortality.
This process brought me to where I am now... happy in my CRON world of Anti-Aging I call it. The older I get the harder i CRON and find new ways to use the plastic surgeons magical filler. i want to spill all my secrets...
http://pinkaliciousintentions.blogspot.com - out (drops microphone loudly on the floor, smiles seductively, and exits stage left) #TurnDownForWhat
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