Danger Zone [deyn-jer] [zohn]: liability or exposure to harm or injury; risk; peril in any continuous area that differs in some respect, or is distinguished for some purpose, from adjoining areas, or within which certain distinctive circumstances exist or are established
Cats are impressive animals for having such small brains. I have this cat Felix that never likes to cuddle, but as I sit here and write an extremely personal post he decides he wants to lie here next to me, head hanging on the side of the keyboard and on the speaker to my music.
I have a strange process when I write… I play the same song over and over and over again until I am finished. It inspires me.
First before I start writing here about what I am talking about, I want to think everyone who bared with me and my stuttering voice as I read my speech last… and a standing ovation, again wow. It blows me up and makes me feel so proud that people enjoy my work.
People telling me I should publish means the world to me, but that process is not that easy. It takes being able to write a whole book about something with a story. I can’t even get more than 30 people who read my blog on somedays. So I do not see that would be possible.
People say you are a good writer when you can make people feel like they are the ones you are talking to.
I am going to tell you what it feels like when your wife has had cancer before and she finds a new lump in her breast.
You live your life walking on a mine field. One step the wrong direction and you will loose and arm or a pair of legs. Your world gets turned from your feet to your hands and you have to learn a new way to walk again.
It’s November now, time has flown through the wind like one of those pictures they show on weather apps where you just see two half circles and fairy dust after them.
People tell you they loved October because the air is cooler, and then they hate November is here and almost finished with December slowing reaching us with darker days and the silent prayers of
“I hope it snows so it get lighter”
A little naive though in my mind, because in the big city there is no snow, just grey slush that makes us walk on ice (or in my case fall on ice like Bambi).
Thursday was the holiday that was my favourite as a child, When my parents lived closer than a plane ride away I got to spend it at each of their celebrations. Turkey ran from my mouth like a fountain and I was filled to the nose with store bought pumpkin pie.
My Thanksgiving was filled with fear this year. I guess it is okay that I talked about it, my wife checked me in with her at the breast clinic at the hospital and she went open about it so I hope it feels okay.
My wife started the process of getting checked for breast cancer, again.
After three years ago she found a new lump in her breast. A little lump that you can barely feel but a lump none the less.
All the same feel feelings, the same angst and fear. The look of lying half nude on one of those paper lined examination tables looking forward like a shell shocked soldier that just escaped a bomb attack and was the only one to survive.
The doctor with her half positive look on her face and in her voice;
“It feels like something nice, but we will get it checked out out just in case”
That was on Thursday and on Monday we have the tests,
A weight falls on your chest like a brick as you hear on the phone during lunch on Friday that you have to change everything that is expected of you to go into high gear.
This was what they said to her the first time and then on the ultra sound they started to get worried.
And it is like a car that you have to put the gas on because if you are not fast enough, the guy behind you is going to hit you hard.
You feel like a lost person in the room, the one that if left out of conversations, or the hugging stops, or the room you work in grows silent that you are going to have to think too much…
That car is going to hit you hard.
You slide quickly like water down the sink telling the only person in the room that knows that it is time to go home. You put on that jacket and you run to the train to ride alone and thank god for headphones with talk shows on them so you can live in their world a little about longer, because the sound of music becomes…
You wake up late in the morning to the feeling of the dog walking on your stomach, literally and you secretly pretend you are hangover from the two colas you had to drink.
You want that ceremonially pizza the afternoon after and you want to spend the day in bed watching your television and pretending you have a headache.
You drink a coke for breakfast and horde the others so the kids do not see them tomorrow when they come home tomorrow because you are going to need them.
You have to be the strong one for Monday and even though you do not believe in God you start praying for him…
And that Cola that is sitting in the fridge is your vodka helping you to get through until Monday.