Transition Girl

Why transition girl?... Best answered by a quote from the Iliad....."The soul was not made to dwell in a thing; and when forced to it, there is no part of that soul but suffers violence."

Saturday, May 25, 2013

guinea pigs

 "One day she would get into their heads, play with their imaginations, test their feelings." 

Now that I can see the other side of the tunnel after a challenging period of my life, I thought I'd write a transition blog resuming normal transmission writing about my writing experiences and covering some final commentary about the demise of the tumor (aka Rupert) that has occupied my world for the last few months. Loosely themed it is a "we are all guinea pigs" blog today.

The quote above epitomizes the sort of day that I strive for as a writer. To the extent I have made the decision to share my writing, the holy grail for me is for a reader to have their thoughts and feelings provoked as much I provoke my own when I write.

They do not have to be the same thoughts or feelings. Truth is that they would not even come close to being the same for we are all unique in the lens we view things. I am always interested to hear interpretations of my writing (where people have been kind enough to share) no matter how different those perspectives are from my own. That said, it is satisfying if an idea I was attempting to convey is actually seen by the majority of the readers with similar clarity.

I do not dare tell you HOW to think or feel. The same page can have a thousand different meanings to a thousand different readers. It is a wonder anyone can ever agree on anything.

I am writing this blog from hospital. The surgery to remove Rupert occurred on 15 May and it was a success (see picture below for summary).

But there have been some post operation complications so I am continuing in the leading role of guinea pig for the raft of specialists who have relished the joy of my unique body temple. Being 'special' is overrated. In spite of this, I still appreciate the quirky sense of humour dolled out by the Universe - both bitch slapped and feather ticked by this S&M dominatrix - what is there not to like?
I am even seeing the morbid pleasure of images in my blood drainage bag (see picture below):
The ghost of Rupert is haunting me as the last remnants of him drain away...
The fact that I am writing this blog is a good sign of my improving health. Home soon to my cats, and my stalwart housemate who is going to help me to learn to play the piano. I was asked yesterday if the last few months have led me to reflect about whether there is anything I would do differently now that I have 'survived' a cancer scare. The short answer to that question is that I have been reflecting all my life (writer remember!) but I promise I will reflect some more.


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