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Why Do Stories Matter?
I love stories and storytelling. Why? Because they let us share the experience of being human—grief, fear, guilt, loss. Sometimes we pass through these spaces with grace; other times, we face-plant in the mud. I’ve done both. These short vignettes come from moments when the “aha” either slipped in quietly or sucker-punched me. But each time, I learned something. I hope you’ll join me in sharing your stories. To borrow from Nelson Mandela: You never lose—if you win or you learn.
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Courage At 0.5 MPH
I’m a retired physician and empty nester. Basically, a woman with degrees, hot flashes, and a deep commitment to self-deprecation. I thought my life experiences prepared me to conquer fear. So, I decided to write a memoir blog about events that interrupted my life and how I found lifelines to survive them. I imagined blogging was a lot like journaling except with fonts and remorse. Then, I froze. I was terrified of what people would think when unexpectedly, life threw me a plot twist. I was diagnosed with cancer. Melanoma. My fears pivoted from trivial concerns about others’ opinions to that of my own survival. Timelines became immediate and finite.…
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Wonder in Flight
Wonder arrived on striped yellow wings just when I needed it. After weeks of tests, I finally underwent my first surgery for melanoma. It was followed by more waiting, which seems to be the treatment protocol for contemporary medicine. My doctors issued a long list of temporary restrictions: exercise, sun, sweating, caffeine, alcohol, smiling, and vigorous chewing. All off-limits. To amplify my isolation, I needed to stay in a hotel near the hospital for several days. I had no desire to venture out in public. My cheek and black eye bore witness to the surgery. I felt disfigured. With one eye nearly closed, reading was difficult. I was in no…
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Tangled Up In Blues
Still warm from sleep, I fluffed the pillows and made the bed, reassured by the aroma of fresh, black coffee. My husband and I were leaving for New York where I would undergo my second cancer surgery. As I closed the curtains, I marveled at our amazing view of the shoreline, ocean, and marsh. Blue skies. Calm seas. Smooth sailing. I paused. What would my story be in two weeks when I returned? Three days later, the multiple surgeries were over. I still didn’t know my diagnosis, but my face had been rearranged. Two packets of fabric bolsters were sewn in inconvenient places on my face. One cushion crowded my…
