Fear and Magic

I don’t want to die.

There is so much magic in the world, I’m discovering.

Palo Santo smoke and steam from lemon balm and mint curling up.

I’m awake.

My neck hurts from a night spent sleeping, somehow, in the wrong position.

Not enough of a cradle for the nerves, bones, soft tissue connecting head with body.

A bridge.

There’s something caught in my throat. I don’t know what it is.

But it’s there. Every time I swallow for weeks.

On Thursday, a doctor will stick a camera deep into my throat to find out.

It’s probably fine.

But that’s what I thought the last time, when I was locking up my bike. My bike and helmet waited there outside. Inside, there was a man who knew already, before even I did, that there was cancer inside of me. Or, rather, a 65-75% likelihood of papillary thyroid cancer.

He was wrong.

It wasn’t that kind of cancer but another. And it was 100% there.

They cut it out after they slit my throat open.

I’m left with the scar I was hoping for.

And fear I was not.

I don’t want to die. I want to stay here for longer. There is more I want to feel and be and discover.

There’s more that I want to fold into myself.

To loop around and weave in and make whole.

10 thoughts on “Fear and Magic

  1. Wow! Thanks for bringing me up to date. Now I have more understanding about our communications. I’ll do whatever you want and I can.

    You’re young, partnered, kids…lots to look forward, adventures abounding.
    We elder, geezers, old farts have very different perspectives as you can only somewhat imagine at this point in your life. The whip-crack smart investigative writer, Barbara Ehrenreich, has given me a much different angle with which to look at the winter of our lives.


    I’m not nor should you consider this as a viable solution. Well, not yet anyway. Similar to you, I’ve got too much unfinished, unexplored, unknowns to make such a change and decision. But, I do get her point. Regardless, both you and she have given me more to ponder. See what I mean? We have far too much not thought of or experienced yet.

    I understand some of what you are/will be going through. After being diagnosed on a Thursday afternoon and before heart stents surgery Monday morning, I was a crazy man. Freaked out, melt down. Basically, I found out I was a clueless walking dead man. To say I panicked is an understatement. For the first time, I had a very possible end of life. Terrifying. That’s something to which no one can predict their reaction. I sure as hell was clueless. Don’t we all think we will live forever? For me, these days, not so much.

    Hurrah, you have what I’m perceiving as a terrific, wonderful, widespread group of female supporters. Perhaps you already do this but don’t hold back from talking about everything you may go through and day by day assessments. That’s what friends are for. Thank goodness I have several great, supportive women friends. One showed up, moved in for a few days. She was the best medicine right when she was needed.
    Men? Not so much. Poor men. Collectively they are so ignorant about such communities. I know the main man in your world is a stellar guy. Lean on him heavily. He can take it.

    My dear, soon the panic regarding unknown ills will morph into a reality in which you can be a lot more active once there are facts.

    I may be 6 1/2 hours away but that’s what email and phones are good for.

    BTW…I hate FacePlace too. Never have, never will. Wouldn’t be surprised if you start receiving unasked for pharmaceutical ads.

    Carry on,

  2. Thank you for sharing your indelible journey with such grace.

    If you haven’t already, check out Susan Steinberg’s “Hydroplane”, a collection of short stories whose voice will find a rhythm with your own.


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