That's how I feel today. Self-questioning yet anxious to write. I like to write in a style that is somewhat light but not irrelevant, funny but not boorish, incisive but not preachy.
So, how do I best engage my readers when I've been newly diagnosed with Stage IV Metastasis? I've been puzzling and puzzling over it but today I say, 1, 2, 3, GO!!
So, yes, the bad thing happened last October. Twenty-three years ago, I was diagnosed and treated at Stage I, and most certainly figured I was clear forever. And was led to believe I was clear forever. But NOooooo. I've since learned that it's common for this thing to rear up and bite viciously again, many years later. Believe me, expletives have been abounding in our house over the past year. I'm learning to be quite creative with them.
Stage IV Mets is a different animal completely. It is terminal. Drugs and their side effects are part of your life forever. (I say "you" but of course I mean "me"). For some folks, that "terminal" lasts for many years. Others die after a couple of years. There's no way to know which club you'll be in. That big old anvil is always hanging inches from your head, following you everywhere. You can't just say, "OK, OK, I'll stop chasing that dang roadrunner!"
And for my precious readers here, I like to write in a style that is truthful but sparing the blood and guts. No talk of needles, invasive procedures, body parts spurting things. (I save that for my specialized FB groups 😅).
OK, so the news is out. Auntie PC revealed. Please join me on my new adventure.
