The Coming Week (Or So)

So here is the short version:

OG has cancer.

Fuck cancer.

I can share my bent view of the world through the lens of a sidekick, and write the best parts of my peeps into superhero realism and make a trip to the cleaners and lunch an adventure, but I can't in genuine honesty write cancer out of the world--not without a villain far too successful in murdering heroes who never stops once it has a grip on someone and JUST KEEPS COMING BACK even if defeated.

By the way, fuck cancer.

In a couple of days I'm going to be going to the land of salsa and omelets to sit by the waterfall with her while she lets western medicine do its thing. I'll be the first in a series of friends tagging each other out to make sure OG's convalescence is filled with peeps and entertainment. I'll be the guy making sure I've got on my effervescent optimism face on, so that she won't despair, even as inside I feel like everything in my world is imploding in upon a renegade mutated cell and then crumbling into pallid dust.

Did I mention, fuck cancer.

I have no way to know for sure what is going to happen with Writing About Writing in the next few days. I will try as hard as I can to honor my commitment to at least a daily post and a couple of "meaty" posts each week, but the schedule of Monday and Friday might break down a little bit. I'm trying to leave the Hall of Rectitude in a decent shape before I go, there's still wreckage everywhere from the attack of the Santa-Bots, and the first of the year is already filled with lots of villains hoping that the new leaf they turn over will be actually dominating the world this year.

I also just can't know how this is going to play out. It's a slow cancer and the prognosis is overwhelmingly positive. If all goes according to plan, I will be sitting by her bedside for hours at a time while she is zonked out on pain killers and able to write as much as I could want. If things are less idyllic, I may be helping much more directly and less able to sit down for more than a few minutes at a stretch. Then you might see a lot more edited old posts, cleaning up of menus, and general jazz hands.

And rather than think about the far other end of the scale, I will simply say again, "Fuck Cancer*!"

So please bear with me. I know this holiday season with its one year old and in laws and sidekick exchange programs and stupid Santa Bots and cancer has been anything but high quality, and maybe some of you wonder why I would rather jazz hands than just put things on a small hiatus, but writing is often HOW I deal with my life being fucked up and overwhelming, so I'm not going anywhere, and I'll be churning out the good stuff just as soon as I can.

*Like in the ear with no lube and no Sarah McLaughlin and no sweet talk. All grudge. All hate.