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Cancer Chronicles: A Daughter’s Perspective

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That is what this gentleman in the next parked car over has been talking about for the last two and a half hours with whoever’s on the other end of his phone call: some fairly-priced strawberries he found on Google; the perks of eating strawberries in the morning; the price per pound in which he found some strawberries at some unnamed health food grocer; and then him and his phone cohort began an argument on who has the better advice for harvesting their friggin strawberries in their backyard gardens.

I’m at a…

Until two sentences made it just a little less scary

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A “functioning addict”

First, let’s fast forward to this week. Pandemic isolation set aside, I feel I’ve accomplished quite a bit this week. I’ve done some book reading, I’ve dug through a ton of online research on how to use the newly discovered Medium, published my first couple of articles, fixed the big garage door, sewed a bunch of masks, and I had a great phone session with my recovery counselor, to name a few.

To most people, that probably doesn’t seem like much to be proud of. But, if we were to rewind back to about a decade ago, I wouldn’t have…

It’s why I’ve not moved on. Still.

Photo by Chelms Varthoumlien on Unsplash

I can remember the last time I felt this way. It was long ago. And I recall the exact day.

Some nights my past, present, and future catch up to me all at once and leave me a wreck.

That first night at the carnival. Years ago.

We sat next to each other closely, leaning upon one another. We were in a car of a slow-paced ride, a Ferris Wheel sort that twirls and roams in a smooth sideways figure eight and up into the air allowing stomachs to butterfly and lovebirds the chance to fall [for one another].

He and I weren’t supposed to be here, together…

Big-time donations are now rolling in as the consequence of doing a big-time NO-NO

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How sweet.

The article in question, as I first saw written in the glossy print version of People Magazine, begins with the phrase: “Kids do the darndest things,” and then continues on:

“ …just ask Jennifer Bryant, 37, whose 4-year-old son Noah got hold of her computer last month and ordered 51 boxes of Spongebob Popsicles from Amazon — for a whopping $2,619.85….”

I feel my opinion on this one probably won’t be the popular consensus, seeing as how the article I’m discussing is one that People chose as a feature in their “Stories That Make Us Smile!” …

Do puff pieces and success go hand-in-hand?

Photo by Andre Sebastian on Unsplash

I take a long time to finish writing. I can work on the same piece for days, weeks, or months and still never be happy enough with what I thought was the final product. What I’ve recently come to realize may be counterintuitive to what most people say is the “right” thing to do.

Everyone says to write from your heart, which I’ve always done. I’ve never needed any advice to help me along that path, it’s simply what I do. I didn’t think I could write from any other aspect. However, I’m finding that doing just that might be…

It’s more than I thought — with very little incentive for repeat business from the consumer.

Photo by visuals on Unsplash

Our household of two has been pretty busy these last two years with the death of the third member of our home leaving my mother and me heartbroken, then Covid-19 beginning its monstrous reign the very same month, and now — instead of transitioning back to life like the majority of people are doing here in the States — we’re going from all-things-Covid straight into all-things-cancer (again) trying to brace and prepare ourselves for everything that comes along with getting ready to fight, treat, and beat Stage Four cancer. …

I’d lived without him for this long, yet still felt the need to meet face to face

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Today is Father’s Day. As I send an eCard to my favorite uncle who actually had a hand in raising me, I find myself pondering Father’s Day as a whole. Even though he was only in my life for a short time, I still think about my ‘real’ dad.

I feel guilty. Guilty for spending time thinking — and now writing — about him when I could be writing about others like my mom, or my family members who helped raise me. …

I’m so ashamed in admitting to the world that I can’t financially take care of my own mother during her illness

Photo by Kyle Broad on Unsplash

I thought this would be easier. What began as a positive idea out of pure desperation to help Mom is now creeping into something else. Something darker. Something self-loathing. Get out of your own head, Bee.
Just, work it out…

First thoughts, written May 27 — June 1, 2021:

Tens of thousands of people fill out the necessary forms to start fundraisers on every single day. It states just that right on the front page of the GoFundMe website.

Though it’s somewhat comforting to know I’m only one of the millions who need to start a fundraiser, it’s that…

Remember why you have an extra day off this week

The unknown soldier (image by author)

As this Memorial Day comes to an end, I have no new perspective on what today means. I love this holiday. I love what it celebrates and I will always have the highest amount of gratitude for the men and women to whom we dedicate this day. I am hoping maybe this post will shine a new light for those who may have forgotten.

My mother and I drove around this afternoon as we do, daily, to get Mom out of the house and into the sun and fresh air for a little while. We drive through other neighborhoods in…

You’ve disappointed me, and anyone else whom you’ve unwillingly trapped into seeing your penis

Photo by Deon Black on Unsplash

I had other, more important things to finish up writing about today, but that changed as soon as I woke up and had a virtual dick shoved in my face.

One of the first things I usually do in the mornings after waking up is roll over up to the edge of my little twin daybed and check my phone. Lately, it’s been to see if Mom has texted me from the next bedroom over, but usually she’ll just call me via Alexa to Alexa if she needs anything.

My next action is usually to read whatever piques my interest…


I write about life, death.... and anything else I need to get off my chest. Personal Reveries; Addiction & Recovery Tales; Cancer Chronicles

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