|Silent Lake by Arbebuk|
It was the final stretch of winter when chemo ended. My body mirrored the spindly twigs of barren, river birch branches.
For months I forged my way through murky water not knowing what hid on the bottom. Through it all my inner circle was fierce but like any absurd, tragic memoir, there was betrayal.
Karma will take care of the bottom feeders - the people that tried to capitalize, emotionally and financially, from my suffering.
I never saw it coming and I'll never know how to defend or deflect it because my heart and mind doesn't work that way. This is a side effect of soaking in a steady stream of goodness.
If I wrote fiction I'd tell you about a mature "mountain woman" - a mother of two grown girls who selfishly beds a man knowing his wife is battling cancer.
If I wrote fiction I'd tell you about a women who struggles to bring peace to a man who has shown his weakness time and time again. Forgive... Release... is her mantra.
(She wants to punish him.)
If I wrote fiction, I'd tell you about the business associate who deliberately attempted to deceive and coerce clients - the bread and butter of her business - away from a women in the pit of her anguish.
He lost. Shot himself in the foot. It is a slow bleed. He is bleeding still.
But I don't write fiction and I don't like casting myself as a victim, so I have no stories like that to tell.
Today the air is heavy and moist. And I am here with you. And I have missed you.
All the ridiculousness that is cancer is behind me. I am free.
Celebrate with me!
My Fuck Cancer - End of Chemo Party
With Trombone Shorty and Friends at The Capitol Theater
Port Chester, New York