Señor Adria

The chemotherapy was the worst of it. How would I get through this? Some suggested visualization – to see myself on a serene isle, or bathe myself in healing rays of light. So I invented him – Señor Adria – and named for the crimson poison they injected into my arm. Señor Adria, my Latin lover. My protector and savior too, but a demon lover. He loved me almost to death. Our affair was no secret. He came to me five times and each time I opened myself up to him. Everybo

Share the Pink 2016 – Cervical Cancer

Is it my imagination or has the Pink Ribbon circus set up fewer tents this year? Maybe breast cancer survivor identity recedes more and more each year and I don’t notice the emblems, the hype, the pink merchandise. This year I mark 20 years of breast cancer survivorship—20 years from my first diagnosis, 12 years from the second. In the Pie Chart of Life, I have spent 31% of mine being a cancer survivor. It was real important at first, marking off each year with another toast,