Every day, women have to get mastectomies. For them it is ALWAYS as big a deal as Jolie’s seems to be to the whole world. They don’t make the magazines. They don’t make their living by being beautiful, I’m sure, but they’re still struggling. And one day, I was thinking in the shower just now, I will be there, and my sister, and we’ll be making that choice.
We’ve always known it. Cancer has always been there, a word I knew well since the age of three. Cancer just runs in my family, like one red-headed child and a love of Ritz crackers.
Ritz crackers. I thought about my father’s nightly ritual, stacking them neatly on a paper towel and topping them with that gloriously guilty spray cheese. I thought about cracker sandwiches with creamy peanut butter, stacked by my mother on a little plate next to a cup of cocoa, to be consumed while it snows outside and you hope for no school tomorrow.
And it made me cry. No idea why, until I realized it was that old feeling. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go back. I wanted someone else to make the phone calls and fill in the forms and sign their name under “guardian” and make sure it all happened on time. I am not an adult. I hate pretending I am. But that place doesn’t exist anymore, outside my heart.
There is no Neverland. I will have to fight to make my name. I will have to fax in triplicate. I will have to decide to have things cut off and out of me that will change me forever, in ways I don’t understand now. I want that feeling of innocent security back, the fresh-washed teddy bear and the long cotton nightgown, the cracker and peanut butter sandwiches and my dad and mom in the next room. I want Purly the cat back, and drooping snow on the big boughs of the backyard evergreens.
I will make a place like that for my own children, but they, also, will grow.
It may be time to make some changes. And by changes I mean turn the bedroom into a giant blanket fort.
My new doctor is so fabulous that I want to be her best friend forever and ever. She and her assistant have a little shack practice right across from the beach. They are super cool and relaxed and funny and sweet.
On the scale, in bigger letters than the numbers of the scale, are the words: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.
I want to just go there to hang out with them.
[ Walk The Moon, Shiver Shiver ]
Get ready to hear your NEW FAVORITE THING
My new coworker Zabrena (the lady Marine) and I started talking about music, and she got all excited to play me this album. It hit me right in the brainpan, and that was only peripherally, in the background with the espresso machine shouting at me. I bought the album tonight, and you should just go ahead and do the same, ‘cause you’re gonna wanna.
I might be crying in exaltation! I just might! Ah! ♥
That is a THICK groove! That bass drum hits you right in the sternum. Nice.
totallycertifiedforthis asked: Oh, honey. I know things look awful and horrible right now (and what happened in Cleveland IS horrible), but I promise that the sunshine is still there and that all of this will pass. If I were there I would give you home cooked comfort food and we'd watch bad television (or hey, even good television!) while snuggling under blankets, and my cat Peanut would come lay on your lap until you felt better. Chin up, Darling! <3
You are so sweet, honeycomb. Thank you. I would love some awesome lady snuggle time with TV and comfort food and a friendly cat (my cats aren’t snugglers unless they’re cold and want to keep me from moving while I sleep). I know crazy crap is always happening next door to SOMEone, and it’s honestly not any part of my own life, but I guess it’s just weird how close to home it feels. But tomorrow will be a lot friendlier! Thanks for the support. It means a lot.