“I’m so out of shape I take steroids just to watch sports.”
– Randy Kagan
How furious was I?
Well, what’s hotter than fire?
Try 250,000F of sheer unadulterated rage nebula.
And
all
pinned
on
my
husband.
I was feeding a flame fueled by a full-on, cement-shoes, swim-with-the-fishes fury.
A foul, sinister Fibonacci sequence.
And I had no idea it was happening.
His transgression?
Nothing.
The culprit?
’Roids.
Hours of “personal reflection,” which also happened to look like seething at my husband, offered me nothing. No shift from this vortex of utter repulsion. Just abhorrence.
But food did.
So I ordered spaghetti and meatballs. And chicken marsala. Minestrone as a backup. A salad. Okay, two salads. And a stupid meatball parm for him, so I could just leave it on the counter and maintain the silent, evil loathe-flow.
Seeking center, I keep self-examining:
– What do I need right now?
– What am I feeling right now?
Something new.
Movement. Measured in molecule. Where all Nothing dwells. There.
Attila to Obi-Wan.
Crepuscule caresses.
Another stage of steroid tapering.
Spirit soars.
Head On and Heart Strong!
Love, Erica
Kids’ Almanac columnist Erica Chase-Salerno was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer in the Summer of 2015. To read more about her experience, visit https://hudsonvalleyone.com/tag/ericas-cancer-journey.
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