Tomorrow and tomorrow and


Look into the eye of the Helix Nebula for a little star-dust wisdom.

I made it through the surgery. Not easy, I knew it wouldn’t be. Now I’m home, dealing with the aftermath. Lord have mercy, passing gas is a blessing from On High. Rabbit pellets are cause for celebration: Bartender, prune juice all around today, I’m buying.

Today mr kk and I shall venture downtown, meet with the surgeon. We’ll find out the lab results, see if the big C is something I can put behind me, or if it and I are going to be dancing toe-to-toe for a while longer. Not looking forward to its continued company, not even, but we’ll see.

Whilst sitting on the crapper waiting for something to happen, I’ve been reading Stephen King’s ON WRITING. At one point he recounts his terrible accident, how it affected him. The struggle of dealing with his battered body. There were times he sat alone, thinking how fortunate he was, how blessed.

He cried anyway.

I know the feeling, know it really well. I want my life back. I said that to my husband last night and even as the words were tripping out of my mouth, I’m thinking, OMG, that is so trite. But it’s true, I do. And yet, nothing is promised in this life. You pays your money, you takes your chances. Sometimes difficult things happen and sometimes you get lucky, but it’s a crap shoot, either way. And when you get knocked off your feet by a distracted driver or some scary-ass diagnosis, you either deal, or you don’t. You curse God or maybe you shut your eyes and say a prayer, or think of your blessings . . . surround yourself in that, comfort yourself with that.

Or maybe you cry. Whatever it takes to get through is okay, I think.

When I looked out the window today I saw a blanket of grey overhead. But somewhere above all that, the Helix Nebula is looking down on me, being all magnificent, reminding me that it, and I, are cut from the same cloth. I shall endeavor to stay in the moment and relish that, and try not to lament yesterday or fret about tomorrow, and remember that nothing is promised, but good things happen, too.

When you’re made of star-dust, anything is possible.

11 thoughts on “Tomorrow and tomorrow and

  1. With you in spirit today, kk. Hold tight to Mr. kk’s hand and know you have lots of loving support, both at home and out here in the ether. And don’t let the stardust make you sneeze. With all that prune juice on board…well… ❤ XO


    • Courtney, I just now saw that you wrote to me. Thank you so much. I’m getting stronger every day, little by little. And each day I try to remember how lucky I am, or blessed, whatever it is that envelopes me and keeps me breathing one more day, with my loving husband at my side, family and friends, some of whom I’ve never met and don’t even–

      Courtney, I don’t know you but I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

      xoxo kk


  2. “We’re made of starstuff. We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.” ~Carl Sagan

    I’m glad you’ve had your operation and are home. Did you hear that the Kepler telescope has discovered something like 715 new planets? As I’ve done research for my Hypothetical Science Fiction Novels, I’ve been getting a distinct scope on just how small we are. And just how significant we are. And also how connected.


  3. Elaine, Jen, Donna–you guys are so wonderful and I thank you.

    I don’t have cancer any more.

    It’s gone. I caught it early. Didn’t spread, barely even made a mark. Just enough to let me know it was there. I’m so glad I didn’t ignore that tiny spot of blood on the tissue, so glad I went to the gynecologist so quickly, so glad I didn’t wait.

    Climbing on my soap box now and saying to any person who notices something not quite right with his or her body, get yourself checked out. Do not wait, do not. It could make a difference in the quality and longevity of your life. Had I waited, my chances of living a long and healthy life might not be as promising as they seem to be now.

    Stellar prognosis. Who woulda thunk it?


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