A Bright Light

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Today’s the day. The amazing book by poet Nina Riggs, “The Bright Hour,” is now available.

I wrote about Nina last year in this blog after reading her remarkable Modern Love essay in The New York Times about living with metastatic breast cancer. That essay led to a book deal, which gives us this gorgeous, gorgeous memoir.

I got the absolute honor of writing a piece on Nina’s book for The News & Record, the newspaper in the city where we both lived. It was probably one of the hardest–and most important–things I’ve ever written in my career as a journalist. Though I’m a writer by trade, I find it so hard to put into words the feelings I have about Nina, her story and this book. She has touched me in ways that I really almost can’t describe, at a time when I was most vulnerable and afraid.

Nina not only captures exactly what it’s like to receive a cancer diagnosis and go through treatment, but she also shines a light on the oft forgotten/overlooked metastatic/stage IV cancer community. Stories like hers are so important, and are so rarely told. Even rarer, told with such beauty, humor and courage.

I cannot recommend this book strongly enough. It will move you, and it will change you. You do not walk away from Nina’s story unaffected. And you’re better for having heard it.

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On Shoes Dropping

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Last fall when I was really sick after my first dose of Taxol, my dear friend Carla sent me an incredible book to help wile away the hours of headaches, fever and worry.

The book was “In the Body of the World,” a memoir by Eve Ensler, the writer and activist best known for creating “The Vagina Monologues.” It details her fight with uterine cancer, while giving a healthy dose of perspective in the form of harrowing tales of the horrifically abused women she advocates for in the Congo.

While I related to her words and experiences on so many levels, one point she made really resonated with me above all others. Ensler talks about her cancer diagnosis and dealing with the feelings of “why me?” She explains that having survived sexual abuse at the hands of her father, as well as abusive relationships with other men, she sort of felt like she’d been through her really bad thing. And now, even though she’d already been through hell, she was being put through it again.

Yes! I know it’s unrealistic, but after my mom died, I sort of felt like I’d paid my heartache dues. Sure, I knew there were plenty of bad things that could and would happen to me, but I felt like maybe I’d earned a pass to not have to experience anything really catastrophic for a while.

As Ensler and I both learned, unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way. Bad things happen to good people. Bad things happen to people who’ve already been through more than their fair share of bad things. Bad things happen on top of other bad things. Bad things don’t have a rhyme or reason. There’s no real pattern. And that’s what makes them so damn scary.

As I walk this path of survivorship, it’s hard for me to keep the fear at bay knowing this truth. There are no free passes. This shit could come back. It could come back today, next week, next year. There’s no guarantee.

I made a therapy appointment today. As I wrestle with all these feelings, I know this is the right move for me. Thankfully, the cancer center has counselors on staff to help people like me make sense of all this and try to move on with our lives. I’m excited to take the first step.