A Spork in the Road

The anthology Last Drink Bird Head, edited by Jeff VanderMeer and Ann VanderMeer, is wending its way towards limited hardcover publication later this year, if all goes well, followed by a trade paperback next year.

The anthology comprises flash fiction from a wide variety of authors, including moi, and promises to be a fun, fascinating read. Each piece is the author’s interpretation of “Last Drink Bird Head” — whatever that may be.

I’m proud to say that proceeds will go to ProLiteracy.org.

Further bulletins as events warrant!

Got the results of my PET/CT scan this morning — I’m clean!

The CT scan showed that the lymph nodes have shrunk down significantly (there’s still some swelling, of course, from scar tissue and dead cells), but the really good news is that the PET scan showed no activity from cancer cells.

So I’m on track to complete treatment at the end of March. Hurrah!

I have nothing to say today. I just thought this was a funny post title.

I picked up this book at a library sale recently, and found it unexpectedly resonant. I’ve always loved Potok, and I’m discovering he’s an author whose work I appreciate more and more as I grow older.

I love the clarity of his prose. I love the solidity of his characters. I love his balance of intellect and emotion, especially when dealing with religious themes, with the reexamination of theological orthodoxy, the struggle to stay rooted in tradition without sacrificing intellectual and emotional honesty.

One of my favorite passages from The Book of Lights:

Gershon sat alone afterward, echoes of the conversation churning within him. Street words lurched through his head, the language of rage. The smug superiority of those certain of salvation. Long-dimmed visions of teachers in dingy classrooms teaching the road map of relationships with the Higher Power, the carefully delineated turns and bends, highways, byways, bridges, the surfeit of text and commentary, the richness to the point of glutinous choking, no new lights, no unexpected visions that chilled the spine, and a sharp voice if you turned to stare out the window at the way the pigeons strutted along the sidewalk in the sunlight.

(And if you want a taste of real Kabbalah, without that sour Madonna aftertaste, this is a great place to start.)

• Find a used copy of this book on Powell’s…
• …or on Amazon.com

I got shot up with radioactive dye this morning, which searched out any remaining cancer for my PET/CT scan.

Hoping that the results of the scan are clean, clean, clean.

If the scan is clear (and hopefully I will find out tomorrow), then we’re on track to conclude treatment next month.

The IV was more painful this time than the first time — my tech said that chemo can make the veins more sensitive, even when one has a port — and I got a little woozy for a minute, but I clung to consciousness and felt better soon enough. I was calm enough to read a book this time, instead of watching television (last time I watched The Dog Whisperer, which helped me calm down). This time I also had to hold my arms above my head the whole time, which wasn’t too bad until the last few minutes, when I lost all sensation except a numbing cold in my arms and hands, and felt a nagging ache in my right shoulder.

And then it was over, and we went to breakfast, and now we just wait to hear the results!