This is not a cheerful post. This is me dealing. It’s not pretty, but believe me, it helps to put it in words and share it. But I can see how it would be upsetting for people who love me to read. Please know you don’t have to read it. Please know this is me coping – we all have our own ways. I can’t just ignore bad feelings – I have to yank them out of the closet, thrash them out and put them in words.

But then, if you’ve been reading this long you probably already know that.

I’ve been writing less. I have not been feeling the compulsion to write lately. I feel like right now, there is nothing to say that I haven’t already said before.

It’s that part of the old movie I keep thinking of, “The African Queen” where they are paddling up the part of the river that gets so marshy and shallow that they don’t even know for sure if they have lost the river entirely, and every day is a tough slog through murky water, and dear God will they ever reach that lake so they can blow up the German gunboat?

This is so far the best day I’ve had since radioembolization treatment number one.

Read more at The View from the 21st Floor


  1. Shannon Hoag says:

    I think of and your slog. I send you so much love. My father is a colon cancer survivor.

    I read the book Miss Suzy to my boys last week. I’m not kidding. It sits on the bookshelf in my nursery, a leftover from my childhood, too. Best part of Miss Suzy? She got her house back from those damn squirrels.


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