Just Another Tasty Thursday

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Living with a chronic disease makes daily life interesting, even in the most quiet of times. There are days, only five or seven per week, where the day plays out more like a classic country song. And cancer is only the seasoning.

Today was such a day.

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My daughter is mentally ill.

My grandchildren are heavily medicated.

My dog had to be put down.

Think I will call my lawyer.

We can't get the documents we needed yesterday.

My 12 year old tried to commit suicide.

Her younger sister is cutting herself.

Think I will call my lawyer.

The court won't follow the federal mandate.

The government agency hasn't complied...for 14 years.

My aunt won't give back my meth-addicted sister's children.

Will you be her lawyer?

My attorney screwed up.

The trial is next Monday.

The deadline for the appeal is in two days.

Will you be our lawyer?

. . . .Oh, and can you do it pro bono?   ~ TWANG ~

 

שנה טובה ומתוקה

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Shanah Tovah 'שנה טובה  ‎ (5773)

During these days of Yamim Nora'im ימים נוראים, may your final sealing in the Book of Life be good.

 

Sincere wishes for a healthy new year filled with simcha

.שִׂמְחָה

 

Tizku leshanim rabbot ייתכן שתזכה שנים רבות !

 

 

 

 

Bad Manners or Good Etiquette?

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Well, at least it’s not c-a-n-c-e-r! 

 

So many times I hear this pronouncement when someone shares the travails in their life or that of a person close to them.  What does this self-assuring phrase mean to the utterer? What does it mean to the hearer?

It harkens me back to the victorian age when C-A-N-C-E-R was hissed in hushed tones, as if saying it in polite conversation was unseemly, bad-form, or worse – made the disease communicable.

To the one sighing in relief, “well…at least it’s not cancer”, it is comforting as if this means the sufferer in question has somehow dodged a terminal bullet.

To the recipient of this sighed utterance, it can mean further isolation – especially if you yourself has C-A-N-C-E-R. Those of us with C-A-N-C-E-R do not have a red letter on our chests (or a pink, or a purple…but I digress).

It may mean that in the minds of the speaker anything is still better than c-a-n-c-e-r … that O-T-H-E-R disease. It may mean that C-A-N-C-E-R is still the feared death-sentence that it has historically been. It may mean that subconsciously people do not b-e-l-i-e-v-e the propaganda perpetuated by the C-A-N-C-E-R   I-N-D-U-S-T-R-Y. They may not believe the rhetoric that “awareness” is somehow a cure. They would accept anything but c-a-n-c-e-r.

I don’t buy into the billboards, TV commercials, print ads, direct-mail advertising, pop-up ads, runs, walks, retail-awareness. I do, however, understand the fear and the loneliness C-A-N-C-E-R can engender in a person. I would not wish C-A-N-C-E-R on my worst nemesis. Yet, I will not be hushed when I say C-A-N-C-E-R when speaking about myself, because it is part of life and reality.

What do I say in return when I am privy to the sighed utterance, well at least it’s not….     ?

Nothing.

I nod.

It would be unseemly and bad-form to do otherwise. One social faux-pas in a conversation is quite enough.

Random Thoughts

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The past cannot be cured. ~ Elizabeth, I. Spot on wisdom.


I have shared a common theme with varied people over the last two weeks, in different contexts: All you can do is go forward. Going backward is just not an option.

Why then do so many seem to pine for a constructed rose-colored past?

Приветствия моему российских читателей

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Я весьма признателен за всех вас в России, которые читают мой блог. Рак молочной железы всасывает в любом языке!