I am not fearless. It’s one foot in front of the other here. I am grateful for all the love and advice that friends have sent me. I am trying to balance advice from my trained oncologists, doctors, nurses, dieticians, dentists, and speech pathologists with the fervent beliefs of my alternative medicine, diet, lifestyle friends who send me protocols that I would be stupid not to follow. I may be stupid.
I may be a dense as I always have been, but life is never black or white in my experience, never only male or female, right or wrong. Decisions are made in the grey zone, including the spelling of the word grey/ gray.
I just purchased turkey tail mushroom extract, but also bought “magic mouthwash”, my pink radiated mouthwash that tastes like cough medicine, along with numerous oral pastilles, lozenges, and sprays to help with the xerostomia, aka dry mouth symptoms.
On advice of my pharmacist and oncologists, I have temporarily suspended some vitamin usage, as they can interfere with the chemo/ radiation cocktails, but I have bumped up my consumption of food based antioxidants, even though, like most other food, they have zero flavour for me at this time. I drink the blueberry pineapple kale smoothie for its texture and goodness; flavour is not important if you can’t taste it. And for someone who prides themselves on having great taste, I can only hope fervently that this too shall pass.
16 years ago, I had a Myocardial infarction (MI) aka heart attack-kack-kack. But this year on May 21, I failed to give it the annual shoutout. One, it’s history, and today cancer is what we are serving on the menu. Two, my triple bypass trumped the MI. It was only 19 months ago, which seems like an eternity. I remember the tear filled walks with Michelle, as we examined the very real potential realities of her going on without me. And now, we go on without impending death. Except for little cancer, which is a serious foe. I do not underestimate it. Although I am not fearless, I have respect for the unknown. We still have walks but with less tears. I have tears for other things.
I have loved my work and hated my work, and I have performed and not performed, and I have been recognized for my work and I have not been recognized. It doesn’t matter much in the end. I know I have done so much with this life that my parents gave me. More than most, less than others. There is still so much MORE to do. I need energy, even more energy to do all the things I want to do. Except niw I am sleeping only about 5 -6 hours a night. Some days that makes me tired. Some days it makes me crazy. Most days, I have so much that I want to do, that I am excited to put fingers to keyboard and tell you all about it.
There is love in the air.
Breathe it deep.
Feel it in your toes.
Hug yourself. It starts there. You have to love the you that you are. If you don’t, become the you that you want and need to be. You are the only one that can hold you back. Everything else is just things.
Inspirations this week was The Night Of A Thousand Judys, which was May 21. We signed up for this kick off to the Container Brewing Summer Sunday series in January.
I knew there was a Lump at that time, but the biopsy wasn’t until mid-March Madness. Then all hell broke loose. I am not one to quit, so I came up with the idea of having some of my favourite singers in town sing the songs I had written with my friends in The Judys.
I knew they were good songs, great songs, but hearing all these different takes on them brought that home BIGTIME. There are many great videos of the performances, some taken by my wife Michelle Normoyle. She is so talented and had the great foresight to see something worth redeeming and redesigning in my raw hunk of clay.
I love Substack. I have been writing on this platform for 10 months now. 120 posts. And before that going back since 2007, another 350 posts from my website Www.densemilt.com
SHOUTOUTS:
Three of the many other writers who inspire me on substack:
Christopher Mooney writes Hexagon. I’ve know Chris for some time, was great friends with his late brother Kevin. Chris and his family are Canadians who live in France. He bring a certain je ne sais quoi. I had to look it up to spell it!
Millicent Souris writes a great stack called Attiude Adjustment Facility. She said in her last post: “I am interested in being in the world, I always have been. There are consequences to this location, bad and good. The connections in life mesmerize me. This world, it’s not nearly as carefully organized as we’ve been told, it is not linear. Life’s weird. That’s the good part.”
Laurie Stone I love her stack, Everything Is Personal. Read it. I implore you to read it. She wrote for the beloved Village Voice in the golden age of the Village Voice. So many great writers from VV, including the Dean-Robert Christgau, Gary Indiana, Nat Hentoff, J. Hoberman,Amy Taubin,Donna Gaines, Gary Giddens, Greg Tate, Michael Musto, Richard Goldstein, Ellen Willis, Karen Durbin, M. Mark, Stacey D’Erasmo, Ross Wetzsteon, Vince Aletti, Erika Munk, Alisa Solomon, Robert Massa, Hilton Als, Andy Hsiao, Paul Berman, Alex Cockburn, Lisa Kennedy, James Wolcott, Sylvia Plachy, Alan Stamaty, James Hamilton, Carrie Rickey plus so many more.
“I remember Guy Trebay’s expanding collection of snow globes. Some contain autopsy remains dusted with glitter. (Not true.) One day I pass his cubicle with a spiky hair cut and dangly, dart-shaped earrings, and he says, “Laurie Stone, the oldest living punk.”
Thanks again to my readers, especially those who have generously sponsored me. I really appreciate it.