Asymptotic Love Grows Forever
We’re Gonna Have a Cat Party, So bring your cat and something to share.
The eighth pancake is never as good as the first.
#Pancake #Breakfast #RRfjtg #Breakfast #Food #Silly #Humor #Philosophy
George Bailey Moment:
When you suddenly realize a much larger number of your peers tan you thought likely actually appreciates and supports you.
Cats and Trump are fascinated by glowing things
This is my very first poem, written in November 1994, now illustrated.
I wrote it during a particularly stressful time. My mother had died of lung cancer a few months earlier, and a few weeks after her funeral, I was diagnosed with colon cancer, with an initial prognosis of about 10% chance of survival. When I wrote this, I had every expectation that I would be dead within a few years, perhaps a few months. I was still in great pain from my surgery, and the chemotherapy was a very recent memory. Even my family was in denial about the seriousness of my situation. I was only 34, and I found many of my peers abandoned me, not wanting to be around a sad person with a potentially imminent tragedy about to unfold. I felt no hope.
I am still alive 22 year later because new treatments procedures and chemotherapies had been developed. I say that I didn’t “beat the odds”, but rather “the odds changed”. The fact I am alive now does not mean that my situation was dire back then. I’ve had a number of people, including my immediate family, claim that because I survived, mutilated as I am, that I was never in any danger to begin with. “I just had a feeling you’d recover”, my sister told me later.
I’ve long thought about illustrating my poem with its vivid imagery, and so here it is:
A fragile and beautiful butterfly
fluttering delicately through the mists
pursued frantically by legions of toads
armed with nets
November 17, 1994