September

I know everyone says this every single year, but I am going to state it again anyway:  I can’t believe it is already September.  I really can’t believe it, as evidenced by the fact that the month is almost half-over and I am just now coming to terms with its arrival and complaining about that fact.  Part of this disbelief, or at least suspended belief, is that September is the month that more than any other signifies that the party is over and it’s back to work time.  We learn this early on in school, as at least in some parts of the country – such as New York, where we know a thing or two about good schools – it is the month when the students return to the classrooms.  No more lazy summer days or idle parental admonitions about “okay for now, but when school starts . . .!!”  September is all back to business. 

In addition to never wanting to get back to work, and at the risk of offending everyone bedazzled with sapphires – as well as approximately two-thirds of the Virgos and about half-as-many Libras, I must admit that I do not care for September.  This may come as somewhat of a surprise to many who know me as those people undoubtedly are aware that I most vehemently dislike hot weather and did in fact enjoy school.  (This may partially explain why I was not overly popular as a child nor, come to think of it, as a parent of school-age children.)  Yet September, at least in most of the United States, can still be quite hot and, even worse, exceptionally humid, which made sitting on those wooden deskseats in un-air-conditioned classrooms a rather unpleasant and, as we grew older, pungent affair, thereby cancelling out any enjoyment I might have unpopularly derived from trying to become educated, which I also hear has largely fallen out of favor these days. 

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The Sunshine Blogger Award

The Sunshine Blogger Award

I am honored to have been nominated by one of my favorite fellow bloggers for the Sunshine Blogger Award, Ramae of the famous incurableblessings.com. I thank you Ramae for this honor.

Ramae is an inspiration to me and, I am sure, many others. Although diagnosed with a rare incurable form of cancer, Ramae has seized the situation and made living her life her priority. It is something so many of us can learn from — especially yours truly. Ramae blogs about her experiences and it is a must read for everyone; her blog can — and should — be found at https://incurableblessings.com/

What is the Sunshine Blogger Award?

The Sunshine Blogger Award is an award of recognition to bloggers from fellow bloggers. It is a way to recognize those who are creative, positive and inspiring — people who spread sunshine to the blogging community. 

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Disembarkation

Typically, I like to pen a new post on this blog at least once a week.  I find that having cancer, even post-chemo and while in remission, gives me more than enough material to write about.  In fact, I wish that there were a whole lot less to say about trying to survive with cancer.  And although I had assumed – quite incorrectly – that after I had completed chemo that I would be able to spend a great deal less time thinking about all matters cancer related, this has not been the case in the least.  To the contrary, I believe that I spend more time ruminating about cancer now than ever. 

Perhaps all of this dwelling on my incurable cancer precipitated the recent events – or, to put it more accurately, the lack thereof.  For it has been a few weeks since last I wrote anything new for this blog.  Sure, during that span I posted some writings that I had written for other purposes/websites/magazines, but that strikes me as cheating a bit.  I’m just getting double the airtime without adding any new content.  It’s like a re-run (which, for those born after 1990 means a show that is being aired again because we had no DVRs to record it and watch at our leisure).  That leaves me feeling a bit hackish and unimaginative.  (That’s not to say I won’t do it again – I can live with feeling a bit hackish and unimaginative from time to time.) 

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Cancer, Party of One

When I was first blindsided by my cancer diagnosis six years ago, I was, as cancer diagnoses go, fortunate. My beloved wife happens to herself be a doctor, and while she is not an oncologist she is of course generally much more knowledgeable about these types of matters than would be a lay person. I am also fortunate to still have both of my parents alive and well – if a bit nutty – to provide additional love and support. And, as hard to believe as this may seem, I am also blessed to have compassionate, loving and, not unimportantly, geographically-close in-laws who are extremely supportive.

As if all of that were not enough – and I say this knowing full well that so many people must face this awful disease with a fraction of the support, if any, that I have had – I also live in the New York City area. Although that is certainly a mixed blessing, it does put within a short train ride many of the world’s foremost experts on the cancer that my body elected, without my consent, to which to subject itself.

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