Still Spinning Like A Cyclone
The other day in the comments here, Tia wrote: "While your other readers and I rejoice with the hopeful prognosis you may now have, I selfishly fear that my family and I will lose the bright moments that spinningtumor.blogspot has brought us should you wrap up this blog."
I want to assure Tia and anyone else who may be interested that, hell no, I'm not ready to wrap up this blog. The way I see it, the story here is just beginning. Cancer may have taken a punch in the nose, and it may be down for the count, but this was just the first round. There's still a pretty fair chance it could muster the oomph to get back on its feet and challenge me to round two. So as great as I feel right now, I don't consider myself ready to hang up my boxing gloves just yet.
Me three years ago, innocently unaware that I was in training for the Big Fight.
But you know, fighting the cancer itself was only half the story. A lot of the ever thickening plot here at As The Tumor Turns will continue to hinge around cancer's collateral damage. I may have come through the chemotherapy with flying (if somewhat tattered and faded) colors, but meanwhile the rest of my life has crashed and burned. All my money has gone to pay for medical expenses. My relationship has gone down in flames of heartbreak and deceit. My house is going to be listed for sale this week so I can pay the remainder of my debts. And I'm left with pretty much nothing. Plus, I have no idea what I'm going to do to earn a living.
Starting over from scratch at age 53, baldheaded, broke, and alone. Hey! Look at me! I'm living everybody's worst nightmare.
So don't write the blog off just yet, Tia. I'm not quite finished with the regaling. As soon as my house is sold, I'm planning to pack up my little dogs and whatever else will fit into my trusty rusty 1999 Saturn beater, and head out into the world for some wonderful, terrifying, kick-ass adventures. And I intend to drag you all along, kicking and screaming, every step of the way. Stay tuned as the (hopefully metaphorical) tumor keeps on turning...
Still standing! (The fabulous shirt is from the Divine Brian. I plan to take him up on his challenge to have my picture taken in it in the midst of all kinds of daring feats of survival.)
I want to assure Tia and anyone else who may be interested that, hell no, I'm not ready to wrap up this blog. The way I see it, the story here is just beginning. Cancer may have taken a punch in the nose, and it may be down for the count, but this was just the first round. There's still a pretty fair chance it could muster the oomph to get back on its feet and challenge me to round two. So as great as I feel right now, I don't consider myself ready to hang up my boxing gloves just yet.
Me three years ago, innocently unaware that I was in training for the Big Fight.
But you know, fighting the cancer itself was only half the story. A lot of the ever thickening plot here at As The Tumor Turns will continue to hinge around cancer's collateral damage. I may have come through the chemotherapy with flying (if somewhat tattered and faded) colors, but meanwhile the rest of my life has crashed and burned. All my money has gone to pay for medical expenses. My relationship has gone down in flames of heartbreak and deceit. My house is going to be listed for sale this week so I can pay the remainder of my debts. And I'm left with pretty much nothing. Plus, I have no idea what I'm going to do to earn a living.
Starting over from scratch at age 53, baldheaded, broke, and alone. Hey! Look at me! I'm living everybody's worst nightmare.
So don't write the blog off just yet, Tia. I'm not quite finished with the regaling. As soon as my house is sold, I'm planning to pack up my little dogs and whatever else will fit into my trusty rusty 1999 Saturn beater, and head out into the world for some wonderful, terrifying, kick-ass adventures. And I intend to drag you all along, kicking and screaming, every step of the way. Stay tuned as the (hopefully metaphorical) tumor keeps on turning...
Still standing! (The fabulous shirt is from the Divine Brian. I plan to take him up on his challenge to have my picture taken in it in the midst of all kinds of daring feats of survival.)
posted by Lymphopo at Wednesday, February 14, 2007
17 Comments:
My shoes are a touch newer and a slightly different style. They haven't walked through fire like yours have, they just have the regular dings, dents and scuff marks of a low income, I own nothing life.
A door opened and I will be starting my life over from scratch at this late stage. I think of it as my own re-invention tour. It is scary and exciting at the same time.
I love Christopher C's idea of a personal re-invention tour. I'm sort of at that stage in my life, too, but thankfully not as a result of a health crisis.
Let's see how we can put some spin on broke, chemo-ridden, and loveless . . . Open to new professional opportunities, primed for a return to good health, and waiting for the next studmuffin to two-step into your life. [Brought to you by the White House spinmeisters (spit, spit)].
I hope the kick-ass adventures in your future are many and wonderful.
You're not alone! I just heard the story last night of a friend of a friend who ended up having a brain tumor, which he has survived, but lost his house because he didn't have health insurance. He was pretty well off and he and his wife had lived in their house for like 20 years, so it had appreciated in value dramatically.
Now they're renting a small apartment, which is not how he was planning living out his "golden years."
I can't imagine you just settling as he did, so I'll be quite interested to hear where your trusty Saturn takes you and the pups.
I'm eagerly awaiting your novel.
If you make your way to snowy Upstate NY, you are always welcome here. There will be a pot of green tea waiting for you!
The rent is still cheap in Oklahoma and the roses still need pruning. You can rent by the day, week, month or year if you promise to stop and smell the roses. You can stop and regroup and then decide what you want to do next. You have so many options it is almost like having a blank canvas when you begin a new painting. I am sure you will have a grand adventure and hope you choose to share it with your blog groupies.
Okie
first of all, i HEART that T-shirt.
second of all, i can't wait to continue to read and support you.
third of all, on the job front, i vote for writer, personal trainer, and motivational speaker.
*~Sarah
i cannot imagine you anywhere but that big ole purple house down south. but then again, i've never known you anywhere else.
i always thought you would be there for a loooong time, and i would have many visits, and i would cause problems between girlfriends and boyfriends in some roadhouse dance hall, that you could witness and then be able to give me the back story.... some drama laden incestious southern messyness backstory. and we'd hang in your kitchen drinking tea and deciding where we were going to go that night....
but if anything at our age, i know things never end up as we would like, so carry on, my dear. i'm with you all the way.
as one really single (as in no man in sight for miles, none needed at this point) single mom to another, if you find your way up the northeast corridor, mi casa su casa and all that.
I positively must have me one of those shirts before my chemo begins here shortly!
Please do tell where it was found.
You know, I just gotta tell you that those glasses look really good with your current hairstyle. I'm not even kidding.
And I'm only half kidding when I tell you that I'd hire you on as my gardener. If you'd work for, like, room and board. In Winston-Salem, NC. I have no idea what to do with this enormous yard, and I'm terrified of it.
Liz, you continue to amaze and astound me with your zest for life! i can't wait to see what daring feats you'll come up with but i know they will be most awesome.
Joan
You look beautiful w/ out all that keratin, like the crested, so unique. (((((granny)))))
I have just found your blog for the first time and have nearly read the entire thing. THANK YOU. Honestly, this is the best damn thing I've found in weeks. I'm so glad you're going to keep it going. I need to read somebody else out there who talks straight. You rock!
Happy travels :) And ginormous congratulations on kicking cancer's ass!
Just found your blog, and I, like the poster before me, read the whole thing straight through. I was entranced.
My dad was diagnosed with lung and colon cancer last spring, so your descriptions of chemo and its aftermath really hit home. Your writing about the experience has answered so many questions I felt hesitant asking him about, that now I feel quite silly for avoiding the subject in the first place.
I just wanted to thank you for that. And I wish you the best of luck in your recovery and remission. May you grow stronger and healthier with every day that passes.
If you come to Pittsburgh, do stop by. I'll show you the spot where you can build your cottage.
I chime in w/the "mi casa es su casa" crowd, if you are passing thru the DFW area -- hey, this gives me NO excuse not to replant my flowerbeds which have been decimated by the last 3 yrs' drought...
Want me one of them thar T-shirts too! Best wishes, Val
Liz! After months of aimlessly accessing "grannyvibe" for naught, I am so pleased to have relocated you. Your lurkers, Liz, we were worried.
Now I'm rooting for you. At the risk of sounding, well, patronizing, I am so amazingly in awe of you. It hadn't occured to me that I could be any more amazed by you than I already was.
I can, and I am.
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