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and Storytellers, too

I nearly forgot — how could I?  The weekend between the first hospital stay and the biopsy hospital stay,  my storytelling friends gathered to tell the 1001 Arabian Nights stories.  Every year we gather to tell a different epic. It’s so fun– everyone takes a different story or two, analyzes, interprets and learns it, and over the weekend we weave to each others’ parts. I hoped to tell this year, but decided not to because I had so much work to do, more teaching than ever before all at once. Turns out, that was a good idea on account of the seizure and the tumour and all, anyway.

The storytellers, I hooked up with them in the early 2000s, and they taught me that “you can’t know someone’s story and not love them”. That phrase has brought a light to many a tangled, gloomy, fractious relationship. Don’t have to like them, but you can love them.

So, Kira and Patricia read my blog, and they told a few of the other tellers at the epic. They circulated a card, and bought a beautiful bouquet, with a wee cabbage in it, some red berries, purple lilies, some kind of fine fern–beautiful. And a card with everyone’s signature, and words of encouragement. Tell stories, keep the histories alive, remember, imagine —

Philomena gave them to me, and we had a good visit the Friday before i went into the hospital. They have all added to the magic all around me. where would we be without stories?

If the tumour doesn’t go away, i’m going to turn it into a vault for super powers. I’ll start with cribbage and go from there.

November 30–I got my head staples out today. My doctor gave them to me, i think i’ll make a little art collage that will incorporate them. Some people might find that repulsive. but there’s no blood or hair on them, I think. So unless you knew they were keeping my head together, you wouldn’t know. My friend came with me, and rolled her eyes when my doctor and I talked about what kind of workouts I could do. “Kettle bell swings?” I said, “with light ones?”

“What’s that?” she asked, and my doctor told her it was exercise equipment. My friend rolled her eyes. She said something amusing then, but I can’t remember what it was — when you read this and remember, will you let me know?

I told my doctor that this tumour was giving me lots of material for stand up. As we left, she said, “Don’t be a stranger” and then muttered, “No stranger than usual, anyway. Hey! maybe there’s a future for me in stand up”.

Yesterday, I picked up about 50 pounds of frozen meals that some of my students prepared for me. They spent a day cooking, and my friend Trish picked it up and gave it to me. You’re all invited over for dinner! make it fast, because i’ve moved back into my house now, and i’m kind of like a geological event… Mind you, I’m determined to take better care of myself and let myself live in a home that can be a place of hospitality.

but still, better to not wait too long to come over.

first appointment with the cancer agency this afternoon, I’ll let you know how it goes.



About easilyriled

My mom was Edith, my dad was John. I have a brother, who is Shawn. I have many friends and allies and mentors in my life. I'm white, over-educated, working in a field for which I am not yet trained, messy, funny, smart, lesbian, feminist "Not the fun kind", as Andrea Dworkin said. But I, like the feminists I hang with, ARE fun. Radical feminism will be the roots of our shared liberation. Rejection of sex-stereotypes (gender) and male domination will give us wings.

6 responses »

  1. Hi Erin, great post. I also told one of my friends that I had lots of material after my diagnoses and surgery for stand up comedy! I can really relate to Tig Nataro!! I am glad the biopsy is behind you I am sending you lots of positive thoughts and healing light. Janine xo

  2. my dear, i will send you wishes from the motherland, India. Off i go to US today, then tomorrow, i fly to Dubai. Wish i could stay and hold your hand and listen to all your stories and eat all food in your home but alas can’t. must do what my sainted mother requests. sell house in india. keep in touch my darlingest..paramicha

  3. Hi Erin, I am glad to hear the biopsy is over! I also told a friend of mine that I would have tons of material for stand up comedy after my diagnoses and surgery. I can totally relate to Tig Nataro!! lol….Janine

  4. Thanks for putting us storytellers in Easily-riled! There are more who would have signed if they had been there for sure! You have a lot of good friends, be it love, like, whatever. Eager to hear the stand-up. Wish I had done that. Wondering now what happened to the staples in my chest. Must have been the kind that melt eventually, I guess. Weird.

  5. All you need now is a cat. Everything sounds good. Food, comfort, drugs (I assume) but
    I see a cat there when I imagine you. Someone get Erin a cat. A very purry one.

    Erin, the stories you will tell about this time. ❤


  6. Where do these things grow anyway? We’ll go there for you.


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