I have a strange, late-night addiction to internet cancer surfing. I doubt it is particularly healthy. More likely it would be healthier to go to bed before 2 AM for once and get a bit more sleep. I got in the habit after I was diagnosed and was facing decisions regarding treatment options. I spent lots of time trying to decipher statistics, read between the lines of various studies about folate levels in rats with colon cancer. Sometimes I’d look for patterns in the way information emerged on the internet, hoping to read the order that pages popped up like the i-ching, and find is some message telling me what to do, how everything would turn out.
These days I don’t do it so often, but sometimes when I’m reading Rosie’s blog, I click through her links, and those links have links…it’s a vicious chain.
So the other day my doctor’s assistant called to say that the results for genetic test I had ordered had come in, and that it was “negative for the mutation.” I was pretty happy to hear that. Then I received the patient copy and realized that she had read the report wrong. There is a standard genetic mutation that is common in hereditary cases of colorectal cancer, and the test results did not reveal this deviation. Probably because I had not ordered that test --it’s really expensive, and my father had not show that particular deviation so it seemed unnecessary). Instead, the lab was looking for a different mutation that did appear in my dad’s DNA: two amino acids are flipped in one part of a certain gene that is needed for cancer recognition (MSH2). The official status of this mutation is “inconclusive.” i.e. there is not enough data to ascertain if this mutation causes a defect in the function of the gene. However, my father’s tumor lacked an MSH2 protein marker, which is a pretty good indicator that the gene was not functioning, and his DNA shows this particular mutation. My tumor ALSO lacked the protein marker, and my test result for the mutation was also positive. So they did find the mutation, the people at my doctor’s office just didn’t understand the purpose of the test to begin with, so they just read the “Significance: inconclusive” line and thought it was all good, when actually its more likely that my family is at the fore-front of a new correlate between mutation and function. My doctor is, I’m sure, not unskilled at what he does (general practitioner), but I am often surprised at how specialized people in the medical profession are. When I went to Sarasota for my father’s surgery I had to explain the whole genetic thing to the surgeon and basically give him the verbiage to order the proper test.
I don’t think about it too much, and it sounds a bit spoiled and whiney to say so…but I can sometimes feel a bit lonely in my cancer experience. With the genetic thing it’s not that I understand it so much, but that there doesn’t seem to be anyone around who understands it more, who can add to my knowledge in language that I can understand, so I feel pretty on my own there. Then there’s that camaraderie that seems to float over the breast cancer folks…and I’m the first to say I would never want to trade cancers, but I am outside that loop. Colon cancer doesn’t have any ribbons, which is probably just as well. If women have breasts, and pink is associated with women…then, people have intestines, and intestines are associated with…see we don’t really need to go there.
And even if I had the trendy cancer, there is the issue of the cancer relationship. A lot of blogs and friends, and people in general talk about the fight “against” cancer. Cancer is evil, it is the enemy that must be wiped out, it must be cured. Whereas I can’t give up on having a kind of touchy-feely relationship with my cancer. I think maybe if I can love it like Meg tried to love the big evil pulsating brain thing in A Wrinkle in Time…okay, that’s a lame joke but in truth I do cling to the belief that my cancer was a message. Of course I’m still not sure about what. About the world, about my life, my spirituality, about the terrain I think. Lots of holistic health advocates quote Louis Pasteur, who at the end of his life reportedly tried to contextualize his own germ theory, saying “The germ is nothing; the terrain is all.” I feel like our bodies have a terrain, and the world has a terrain, and the high incidence of cancer in the last fifty years has less to do with more cancer-seeds blowing in the wind, than with the already compromised terrain it lands on. There are others who believe things like this, and many of them sound a little crazy, even to me, which is also a bit lonely-fying.
Finally, there is the fact that everyone I hang around with is well. That’s great. I hope I can say that for years to come. Forever. But there was a time when most of the people around me were living with a life threatening disease, which allowed, for a while, a more direct experience of life and emotions, a completely altered sense of priorities, and once in a while, real moments of connection with other humans who were experiencing the same things. I don’t miss being sick, but I do miss those things sometimes.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Ah ah ah aaaah...Little China Girl
Earlier today (today still being Thursday even thought it’s not), I had what I thought at the moment was a really profound thought: Why is china—like the dinnerware- called china? My immediate thought was, because it’s made in China. But if that were our predominant labeling system, many other things would also be called china: decorative notecards, key chains, inexpensive jewelry, the entire inventory of The Gap. Yet we have names for all of these things, and still we call china-- china.
I brought up this mystery to some folks at Ali Baba this evening. Being smart Phd types and knowing about history and stuff, they were like, “Duh,” and explained that China had made the first china. They invented it. I came home and hit the web to see if I could verify this, and it certainly seems true that the Chinese invented porcelain, so I guess they created “fine china,” but don’t we often use the word china in a broader sense? Like a combination of plates and bowls and teacups constitutes a set of china? But haven’t plates and bowls and teacups made out of pottery have been around since prehistory…I don’t see anything that says that the Chinese came up with it first, although it does look like they were the first to get really good at it, so I guess that makes sense. No real mystery at all.
Two more items on the topic of things and people Chinese:
1) When I was in Costa Rica, all Asian people were simply referred to as “La China,” which amused me each time I heard it, but also plucked lightly at some politically correct string in my brain. I have been for years among my Latino friends “La Jueda” (the white girl), which also feels a little course, but at least I am white. Whereas “The China,” is like calling every white person “The Sweden.” It’s doubly weird because it feels like they don’t bother to even make the incorrect ethnic origin into an adjective. (That wasn’t an ideal comparison of course because proportionally there are many more Chinese Asians than white Swedes, but you get my point.)
2) So, here in Tallahassee, I went to see an acupuncturist--a white lady who used to be a nurse, got fed up with it and went to acupuncture school. She was really nice, and in going to accupuncture school she had done something that I could imagine doing myself, but in the end, I felt she lacked the intuition and more nuanced perception that I desire in a health advocate. I’m sure there are some non-Asian acupuncturists who are great (actually my acupuncturist in Australia was Israeli, and she was excellent), but for the sake of efficiency it seemed better to play the averages. So, recently, when I decided to try someone new, I looked in the phone book under acupuncturists, and picked a random Chinese name. It paid off, and my new acupuncturist is much better. So then I have to question myself, is she really better? Or because I’m prejudiced, do I just think she’s better? (She really is so much better.)
I brought up this mystery to some folks at Ali Baba this evening. Being smart Phd types and knowing about history and stuff, they were like, “Duh,” and explained that China had made the first china. They invented it. I came home and hit the web to see if I could verify this, and it certainly seems true that the Chinese invented porcelain, so I guess they created “fine china,” but don’t we often use the word china in a broader sense? Like a combination of plates and bowls and teacups constitutes a set of china? But haven’t plates and bowls and teacups made out of pottery have been around since prehistory…I don’t see anything that says that the Chinese came up with it first, although it does look like they were the first to get really good at it, so I guess that makes sense. No real mystery at all.
Two more items on the topic of things and people Chinese:
1) When I was in Costa Rica, all Asian people were simply referred to as “La China,” which amused me each time I heard it, but also plucked lightly at some politically correct string in my brain. I have been for years among my Latino friends “La Jueda” (the white girl), which also feels a little course, but at least I am white. Whereas “The China,” is like calling every white person “The Sweden.” It’s doubly weird because it feels like they don’t bother to even make the incorrect ethnic origin into an adjective. (That wasn’t an ideal comparison of course because proportionally there are many more Chinese Asians than white Swedes, but you get my point.)
2) So, here in Tallahassee, I went to see an acupuncturist--a white lady who used to be a nurse, got fed up with it and went to acupuncture school. She was really nice, and in going to accupuncture school she had done something that I could imagine doing myself, but in the end, I felt she lacked the intuition and more nuanced perception that I desire in a health advocate. I’m sure there are some non-Asian acupuncturists who are great (actually my acupuncturist in Australia was Israeli, and she was excellent), but for the sake of efficiency it seemed better to play the averages. So, recently, when I decided to try someone new, I looked in the phone book under acupuncturists, and picked a random Chinese name. It paid off, and my new acupuncturist is much better. So then I have to question myself, is she really better? Or because I’m prejudiced, do I just think she’s better? (She really is so much better.)
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
LITW: Thumbs Up
M. Night Shyamalan's Lady In the Water seems to be one of those films that provokes people to attack or defend it from its attackers. Paul and I and a friend of his from the film school saw it over the weekend, and uniformly landed in the 'we like it' camp. I walked away feeling more satisfied than after The Village or Signs. I'll be interested to see what shape the viewership graph will take. The bad reviews might hurt it--but how will the word of mouth affect things, and will the controversy send people to see it just so they can weigh in? In the end will it be popular, or perhaps like Unbreakable be generally regarded as weak, except by a core contingent who like it the best of his films? Paul recently had to turn in a top ten list for an upcoming class, and Unbreakable was on it.
Back to LITW though. What about that animated sequence at the beginning? Was it always there, or did it get tacked on later in the process in order to make the film more accessible, because they couldn't fit enough exposition into the film proper?
Back to LITW though. What about that animated sequence at the beginning? Was it always there, or did it get tacked on later in the process in order to make the film more accessible, because they couldn't fit enough exposition into the film proper?
Monday, July 24, 2006
A Little TV Trivia
So my sitcom class has gotten very mixed reviews in terms of format and teaching style. The kids who are graduating and moving to Los Angeles in two weeks find the seven hour classes burdensome as they try to transition their lives. What takes place during those seven hours? Well let’s just call say we make up the classic dysfunctional family--Hollywood style!
But without a doubt, one of the most pleasurable parts of the course has been participating in conference calls to some pretty famous people in terms of TV comedy history…probably the biggest of these being Norman Lear, the creator of the series All In The Family, which was a show that changed the TV landscape forever. Well into his eighties, he is excellent conversationalist on current events and trends, and a very articulate and interesting storyteller about event in his own life. We’ve also spoken to Paul Reiser, who created and starred in Mad About You, and Warren Littlefield, who was the President of NBC during the nineties, through the tenure of shows like Cheers, Friends, Seinfeld, etc. He told a little story about the beginning of Seinfeld. They had seen Jerry’s stand-up and given him a small deal to come up with a pilot. Originally, Jerry was paired up with a more experience sitcom writer, but when the time came to turn in the script, Jerry called Warren and said, “I can’t show you the script.”
“Why not”
“I hate it.”
“Okay…I, um, can’t pay you.”
“I don’t care”
“So…what do you want to do?”
“Well I’ve been talking to friend Larry (David), and we want to try writing something together, based on our lives and our friends.”
“Okay”
Seinfeld in its original incarnation was about three guys. Warren pulled the framed test results from the wall of his office to read them to us. It received a ‘lukewarm” reaction from adults and teens, and a low reaction with kids. The audience thought George (Jason Alexander) was a wimp, while Kramer (Michael Richards) was “mildly amusing.”
Despite this, the network ordered four episodes, and Warren stole the money for these from the “specials” budget (like Thanksgiving and Christmas specials). The only network note was that they should add a girl.
Jerry asked Warren, “In the history of Television, has a successful series ever started with a four episode deal?”
Apparently not.
Assured of this, Jerry and Larry assumed they would end up showing the four episodes to their friends at a party some time, and that would be about it. They used material they thought was funny, and that they thought their friends would like.
The episodes aired after Cheers on Thursday nights, and as it turned out, the audience was not unreceptive. Warren said, “They didn’t accept the show, but they didn’t reject it either.” So the network decided to order thirteen more episodes. They called Jerry and Larry and let them know.
After they got off the phone, Larry ran to the bathroom and threw up. Jerry asked him, “Why are you upset?” And Larry answered, “Now we have to figure out what the show is about!” He was afraid he didn’t have any more ideas.
He went on to write for the series for seven years, and now has his own show
Curb Your Enthusiasm, which I haven’t seen yet. I have friends who are huge fans, and others who say they can’t watch it. Opinions? Should I order it from Netflix?
A final note, in the year Larry David wrote for Saturday Night Live (1984-85), only one of the sketches he wrote ever made it onto the show, and they put it at the end. So I guess I won’t give up on being funny just yet!
But without a doubt, one of the most pleasurable parts of the course has been participating in conference calls to some pretty famous people in terms of TV comedy history…probably the biggest of these being Norman Lear, the creator of the series All In The Family, which was a show that changed the TV landscape forever. Well into his eighties, he is excellent conversationalist on current events and trends, and a very articulate and interesting storyteller about event in his own life. We’ve also spoken to Paul Reiser, who created and starred in Mad About You, and Warren Littlefield, who was the President of NBC during the nineties, through the tenure of shows like Cheers, Friends, Seinfeld, etc. He told a little story about the beginning of Seinfeld. They had seen Jerry’s stand-up and given him a small deal to come up with a pilot. Originally, Jerry was paired up with a more experience sitcom writer, but when the time came to turn in the script, Jerry called Warren and said, “I can’t show you the script.”
“Why not”
“I hate it.”
“Okay…I, um, can’t pay you.”
“I don’t care”
“So…what do you want to do?”
“Well I’ve been talking to friend Larry (David), and we want to try writing something together, based on our lives and our friends.”
“Okay”
Seinfeld in its original incarnation was about three guys. Warren pulled the framed test results from the wall of his office to read them to us. It received a ‘lukewarm” reaction from adults and teens, and a low reaction with kids. The audience thought George (Jason Alexander) was a wimp, while Kramer (Michael Richards) was “mildly amusing.”
Despite this, the network ordered four episodes, and Warren stole the money for these from the “specials” budget (like Thanksgiving and Christmas specials). The only network note was that they should add a girl.
Jerry asked Warren, “In the history of Television, has a successful series ever started with a four episode deal?”
Apparently not.
Assured of this, Jerry and Larry assumed they would end up showing the four episodes to their friends at a party some time, and that would be about it. They used material they thought was funny, and that they thought their friends would like.
The episodes aired after Cheers on Thursday nights, and as it turned out, the audience was not unreceptive. Warren said, “They didn’t accept the show, but they didn’t reject it either.” So the network decided to order thirteen more episodes. They called Jerry and Larry and let them know.
After they got off the phone, Larry ran to the bathroom and threw up. Jerry asked him, “Why are you upset?” And Larry answered, “Now we have to figure out what the show is about!” He was afraid he didn’t have any more ideas.
He went on to write for the series for seven years, and now has his own show
Curb Your Enthusiasm, which I haven’t seen yet. I have friends who are huge fans, and others who say they can’t watch it. Opinions? Should I order it from Netflix?
A final note, in the year Larry David wrote for Saturday Night Live (1984-85), only one of the sketches he wrote ever made it onto the show, and they put it at the end. So I guess I won’t give up on being funny just yet!
Monday, July 17, 2006
Monday Morning Already?
My friend Amy K., from Los Angeles, was in Orlando this weekend and made the four hour drive to Tallahassee to come visit on Sunday afternoon. Yeah, Amy! As always, she was an invigorating bundle of energy, and as always, had a list of new interests she has been pursuing. Specifically, she brought a hoop to demonstrate and give us some hoop-dancing tips! After she drove away I was immediately bummed I hadn't thought to shoot some video to put on YouTube! There are some pictures of her teacher in Los Angeles though, at www.hooprevolution.com.
Also, in the news, we seem to have sold our old car. Apparently this guy in Orlando has a Ford engine and needs a car body. We have the body, and no engine, to speak of. A match made in heaven! Craigs list rocks!
Last note: If you don't normally check out my links, my friend Jeff (also in Los Angeles) has had video blog style web-show since before they had the word blog. He does a couple of live performances once a year and donates the proceeds to charity. I tend to miss these shows for reasons of distance, but he's kind enough to post some excerpts on his site, Jeff at the House. They always crack me up, and this episode is no exception.
Also, in the news, we seem to have sold our old car. Apparently this guy in Orlando has a Ford engine and needs a car body. We have the body, and no engine, to speak of. A match made in heaven! Craigs list rocks!
Last note: If you don't normally check out my links, my friend Jeff (also in Los Angeles) has had video blog style web-show since before they had the word blog. He does a couple of live performances once a year and donates the proceeds to charity. I tend to miss these shows for reasons of distance, but he's kind enough to post some excerpts on his site, Jeff at the House. They always crack me up, and this episode is no exception.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
It's not Funny when somebody puts an eye out!
This week, for some reason, I have been hearkening all the way back to a two week summer camp I went to when I was probably fifteen or so. There were a number of different topics one could study for the two weeks, and I’m not sure what mine even was…some kind of media, I think. But some of the kids were taking Comedy, and apparently, it was rather hard work. In a common's room we a huge piece of butcher’s paper for graffiti. One morning I came in and saw, in words scrawled bigger and bolder than all the other signatures and cute quotes: WHEN DID COMEDY STOP BEING FUNNY?
For me, the answer to that question is, “sometime last week.” As we head into our mock production of a pilot, my TV sitcom writing class has morphed into an experience that is much less fun that watching old Jack Benny shows and reading scripts. Though I have always felt I had some potential for humor, my confidence in my abilities is fast waning. I comfort myself that perhaps my humor is quirky, while sitcom humor is broad. Certainly I have long known that I am more a watcher and reporter of the slightly absurd than a fast and furious jokes-man. Whatever the reason, I worry I have little to contribute, that I don’t “get” the show in the way our leader seems to “get it.” Each night, as assigned, I work up little stories for our characters, only to arrive at the “comedy room” and be told that the characters aren’t like that at all. Not that this should be a surprise, in a room of ten people; it seems unlikely that there would be a united vision. We are blind men feeling an elephant.
For me, the answer to that question is, “sometime last week.” As we head into our mock production of a pilot, my TV sitcom writing class has morphed into an experience that is much less fun that watching old Jack Benny shows and reading scripts. Though I have always felt I had some potential for humor, my confidence in my abilities is fast waning. I comfort myself that perhaps my humor is quirky, while sitcom humor is broad. Certainly I have long known that I am more a watcher and reporter of the slightly absurd than a fast and furious jokes-man. Whatever the reason, I worry I have little to contribute, that I don’t “get” the show in the way our leader seems to “get it.” Each night, as assigned, I work up little stories for our characters, only to arrive at the “comedy room” and be told that the characters aren’t like that at all. Not that this should be a surprise, in a room of ten people; it seems unlikely that there would be a united vision. We are blind men feeling an elephant.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Hello, Kitty
This summer Paul and I are house-sitting for a faculty couple while they are in Italy. The house comes equipped with a swimming pool, and a long haired cat with kind of a hare lip, named Pouts. I’ve never really been a cat person, though the cats of friends generally innocuous enough. I’ve always thought that more time around any specific cat would lead to some greater affection on my part. I am now questioning this.
So far Pouts and I have been cordial. I scoop her litter box, and wipe up the occasional hairball/vomit. She brushes against me once or twice when I come home, and swats her tail, sending pieces of spider-web like fur drifting through the air each time, despite daily brushing. Sometime I try dangling a catnip toy, or a little ball with a bell inside. She yawns, lies down, and looks the other way. I don’t press the issue, because really, the little jingle ball doesn’t interest me that much either.
And then yesterday I felt we had a little bonding moment; she came and kneaded my leg while I read a book on the bed and I thought, hmmm, this is not unpleasant . Soon after, I left the bedroom to find little pieces of poop up and down the hallway. This is apparently a sign of displeasure from cats. I certainly got the overall message, but wasn’t sure what provoked it. Her box had been cleaned that morning, her food had been timely, petting and brushing perhaps even more so than usual, what-up? Then it occurred to me, perhaps she could sense my ambivalence! Maybe she knows I don’t really love her, and that’s why there’s poop on my floor!
“Should I feel guilty for my lack of maternal instinct?” I ask my cat-loving friends. No, they tell me, it’s not me, it is the cat in my charge. “Pouts is without charm,” they say, “not like our cats who are amazing and cute and laden with personality.” As tactfully as possible, I remind them that the enchanting properties they speak of in their own animals are also not so readily apparent to me. They say it will be different if I ever have my own cat. I will be intensely in love with it. “You mean when the hormones kick in?” I ask. Something like that, they say.
So far Pouts and I have been cordial. I scoop her litter box, and wipe up the occasional hairball/vomit. She brushes against me once or twice when I come home, and swats her tail, sending pieces of spider-web like fur drifting through the air each time, despite daily brushing. Sometime I try dangling a catnip toy, or a little ball with a bell inside. She yawns, lies down, and looks the other way. I don’t press the issue, because really, the little jingle ball doesn’t interest me that much either.
And then yesterday I felt we had a little bonding moment; she came and kneaded my leg while I read a book on the bed and I thought, hmmm, this is not unpleasant . Soon after, I left the bedroom to find little pieces of poop up and down the hallway. This is apparently a sign of displeasure from cats. I certainly got the overall message, but wasn’t sure what provoked it. Her box had been cleaned that morning, her food had been timely, petting and brushing perhaps even more so than usual, what-up? Then it occurred to me, perhaps she could sense my ambivalence! Maybe she knows I don’t really love her, and that’s why there’s poop on my floor!
“Should I feel guilty for my lack of maternal instinct?” I ask my cat-loving friends. No, they tell me, it’s not me, it is the cat in my charge. “Pouts is without charm,” they say, “not like our cats who are amazing and cute and laden with personality.” As tactfully as possible, I remind them that the enchanting properties they speak of in their own animals are also not so readily apparent to me. They say it will be different if I ever have my own cat. I will be intensely in love with it. “You mean when the hormones kick in?” I ask. Something like that, they say.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Devil's in the Details
Went to see The Devil Wears Prada the other night. Cute and enjoyable, and Meryl Streep is as good as everyone says she is…and that girl form the Princess Diaries is pleasant enough.
Um…her boyfriend has a job that gets him hired as a sous-chef at the Oak Room? When does he even have time to be pissed that she has no time? Everyone I’ve ever known with culinary aspirations has worked about eighty hours a week.
The combination of this movies, and my TV writing course has brought to mind all the production jobs I had in my early twenties, which were not unlike Andie’s in this movie—except without the designer clothes. Although I watch and know that there is an element of absurdity to the mentality depicted, I also really relate to how after a while, the exactitude of these jobs also make a perfect kind of sense.
The first time I saw Swimming with Sharks and Frank Whaley’s character picked up the wrong packet of sweetener, I immediately knew he was heading for disaster. “Nooo—that’s the wrong one!” I yelled silently. Many jobs seem persnickety when viewed from the outside, but I wonder how many people in this country actually have lives that do have these kind of standards, in various capacities. Most of the people I work with right now seem to me obsessed by the presence or absence of commas, and go to great lengths to make these perfect. I can’t say its something I really care about, but hey, it’s the culture.
Um…her boyfriend has a job that gets him hired as a sous-chef at the Oak Room? When does he even have time to be pissed that she has no time? Everyone I’ve ever known with culinary aspirations has worked about eighty hours a week.
The combination of this movies, and my TV writing course has brought to mind all the production jobs I had in my early twenties, which were not unlike Andie’s in this movie—except without the designer clothes. Although I watch and know that there is an element of absurdity to the mentality depicted, I also really relate to how after a while, the exactitude of these jobs also make a perfect kind of sense.
The first time I saw Swimming with Sharks and Frank Whaley’s character picked up the wrong packet of sweetener, I immediately knew he was heading for disaster. “Nooo—that’s the wrong one!” I yelled silently. Many jobs seem persnickety when viewed from the outside, but I wonder how many people in this country actually have lives that do have these kind of standards, in various capacities. Most of the people I work with right now seem to me obsessed by the presence or absence of commas, and go to great lengths to make these perfect. I can’t say its something I really care about, but hey, it’s the culture.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Miscellaneous
The odd thing about keeping this blog is that after I miss a certain number of days I start to have some odd performance anxiety where what I say has to be doubly profound or entertaining to somehow compensate for the days that pass, then instead of just saying what’s on my mind, I wait to see if I will have something more profound or entertaining on my mind tomorrow or the next day. I suffer in contrast to some friends, who maintain more frequent posts while traveling, raising children, working and battling major illnesses. Huh.
Another deterrent, as I start to write on some days, is that I feel alternately that what I want to write is too frivolous (like what I think of the new Superman movie), too self absorbed (like me, my TV writing projects, my little mental demons, my obsession with regular digestion), or too serious or even a bit out of my jurisdiction. For instance, although my father’s health has for years been an open topic of discussion, my mother has always less likely to allow her health to cause ripples in the water. Thankfully she tends to enjoy good health. However, in the past week, she was diagnosed with emphysema. This was very unexpected, as she lives an active lifestyle, doesn’t smoke, and was not having trouble breathing. In terms of illness, our family has been a bit of a one hit wonder, and when something arises that isn’t cancer, I find myself at a loss. From my back pocket I can pull at least a dozen stories of people who have recovered from “fatal” cancers. I don’t have any stories about emphysema. Maybe some of you do?
Another deterrent, as I start to write on some days, is that I feel alternately that what I want to write is too frivolous (like what I think of the new Superman movie), too self absorbed (like me, my TV writing projects, my little mental demons, my obsession with regular digestion), or too serious or even a bit out of my jurisdiction. For instance, although my father’s health has for years been an open topic of discussion, my mother has always less likely to allow her health to cause ripples in the water. Thankfully she tends to enjoy good health. However, in the past week, she was diagnosed with emphysema. This was very unexpected, as she lives an active lifestyle, doesn’t smoke, and was not having trouble breathing. In terms of illness, our family has been a bit of a one hit wonder, and when something arises that isn’t cancer, I find myself at a loss. From my back pocket I can pull at least a dozen stories of people who have recovered from “fatal” cancers. I don’t have any stories about emphysema. Maybe some of you do?
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