Virusgiving 2020 (Yeah, it’s a tasteless name but the intention is good)

I self-sequestered because the cancer makes me immuno-compromised. And then I proceeded to throw a very undignified hissy fit at having yet One More Thing cancer took away from me. I felt trapped; a good friend reminded me that I was not trapped, but making a logical decision until this CORVID-19 gets under control. 

My Beloved helped me turn a corner of the living room into my "office" with natural light, a comfy chair, and purple things that I love.

I also heard that several of you are social distancing which triggered no small amount of schadenfreude of which I am not ashamed.

But now that I've calmed my sarcoma self down, I thought of how generous y'all were with my Screw Cancer Amazon list, and how loved it made me feel. 

Following the comfort of my Cancer wishlist and The Blogess’s tradition of Booksgiving, I propose sharing surprises with one another to get us through this super weird and frightening time--a way of reminding us that we are not alone.

Here’s how it goes:

1. Create an Amazon wishlist called Virusgiving 2020. If you don’t know how to create a wishlist, follows the instructions here.
2. Step 3 of the above instructions is ESSENTIAL. This will walk you through the steps of including your address so the item can be delivered to you
3. Add to your list ONE ITEM UNDER $25. This could be something that you need (TP, sanitizer, coffee …) or something you want (toys, movies, books …) that will help these days of being stuck in the house.
4. Keep your list to ONE item under $25! People have different budgets and different abilities to give. By having a variety of wishlists with a variety of costs, it allows more people to participate.
5. If you want to surprise someone with a gift just click on their link, buy their item, choose their address at checkout (it’ll just give you their town for privacy reasons) and send!  If it doesn’t give you their address it means they skipped step 3 and didn’t enter their address so just delete that item from your cart and try the next person.
6. Gift notes are not necessary but they’re fun to get and to be able to respond.
7. If you don’t want to participate in the above, respond with anything that makes you happy, a weird suggestion to you from Amazon, pimp the book you wrote, pimp your website, whatever.

Because I am sharing this on multiple platforms, please post your wishlists in the comments of this blog. If you respond on separate platforms (Twitter, Facebook ...), I will try to remember to move it here. Please keep in mind that my chemo brain is working overtime these days.

Happy giving! I love you! Wash your hands and stay safe!

Ash Wednesday 2020

Remember you are dust.

I was in the hospital over Christmas because of extreme edema (ultimately I was carrying around 47 lbs of water weight as a result of one of my chemo meds). At one point, one of the nurses slapped a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) bracelet on me and wrote DNR on the whiteboard where I got information about my treatment plan, etc.

I had a vague memory of making that decision on my advanced directive years ago, but I'm wasn't sure that's what I wanted now.

I prayed over and over that night: O God, please don't let me die because I couldn't pee enough!

The next day, a different nurse saw the note and my bracelet, rolled her eyes, and removed those frightening letters from the whiteboard and my wrist.

"You are nowhere close to dying. This isn't necessary."


Remember you are dust.

The instant response to hearing my diagnosis was Cancer = Death. I started thinking of things to clear out in preparation, writing out family stories I don't think I had told (or to which my child hadn't really listened).

Then Time happened. Death was less a blaring horn as background noise like the constant pain of neuropathy in my hands and feet. I wash my hands frequently and fuss at my family to wash hands, keep items away items that carry germs away from me, etc.

But I hate how this fear drives me into a bubble, separated and alone; afraid of what my child has brought home; afraid of my husband's every sneeze; afraid of sharing the Peace at church.

In my anger I theoretically put myself in danger just by interacting with people. I press against these boundaries because my mental health is at stake. I'm resentful that I constantly have to balance the two.


Remember you are dust.

 Constant news of the coronavirus spreading plucks a vibrating string of panic. I have a target on my head because of my compromised immunity. Masks don't work. My family could be exposed if/when the pandemic truly hits the United States. I know there would be nowhere I can hide. My wrist is slapped with the DNR bracelet again.

Where does this leave me spiritually at the beginning of Lent? This is my desert, and I am scared. I've been taught in the most Protestant of ways that this is an individual journey that I must face alone. Correction: God is walking with me. And while I know this, I need the manifestations of
God's hands and feet. So will you walk with me?

Remember you are dust.
But I don't want to blow away quite yet. 

I accept this sign on my forehead as a symbol of love, trust, and absolute defiance.

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Special thanks to Neil Ellis Orts for the inspiration for both this post and the challenge to keep writing.

Prayer for a Collection Development Librarian

God of Discernment and Love,

Help me, in the tending of the library's collection,
Be wise;
Seek equity;
And support the needs of all those
We welcome freely and graciously
into our library spaces.

Amen