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The Hallowed Ground.

'Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.' N. Bonaparte

‘Never interupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.’ N. Bonaparte

Today, I am going to just write. I don’t want to think too much today. I want to just be present.

I don’t even know what that means. I am still so restless and tired. I thought maybe, just maybe, it was time to look at some other blogs on cancer. I shouldn’t have. The poor people. The pictures of their smiling faces. Why did I do it? I want to know what I can do for myself. The community. But all I did was scare myself. I didn’t steel myself to a new resolve. I didn’t learn a fact to help in my fight. I reminded myself of a 5 year of pretending I wasn’t scared of the monster under the bed. Still wanting the night light on. Too proud to ask.

Naturally I was automatically drawn to the smiling, happy faces. Just nice faces, young and old. The thing was, they were dead. The blogs, as I was scrolling past, showed me happy brides, handsome men on vacation, little kids and grandmas. So I stopped. At first. They were the survivors blogs. Not the patient. The family. Because they have to survive, too. Posting pictures of those they lost in battles. Not the ugliness. The beauty. Wanting to remember, of course of course they do. So they post the farewell on behalf of their wife, their husband, their child, their Nana. The notice of the war waged, the trials endured, the battles bravely fought, the final, irretrievable loss. Every day there are more.

I hate crying. I wonder if its good for you?

I know I promised myself, early on, that the fight I wage would be fought on my terms. With my carefully honed coat hanger, to kill what I could, using what I had on hand. I know about war. I read about it. History books on warcraft. Liza says it’s because I’m an Aries. Maybe so, but I find it fascinating. One of the things that comes out through the ages, is that a great many battles are won or lost based on two things. Communication between the various commanders and the generals, and the spirit, the morale, the attitude and belief of the troops.
I am the commander-in-chief. I need to keep my lines of communication open, clear, decipherable. I want to know exactly what I can do to keep the battle from stagnating and degenerating into a rout. I don’t want my flank bogged down in the mud because I didn’t know there was a bog.
My troops, they mustn’t think I don’t know. I know everything. I’m confident, aware and involved in their survival. Go on, troops! I’ve got your back! Get in their and fight fight fight!

I’m not hiding. Up here on my hill, I’m with them. I’m with you. I watching and learning. Keeping my lines of communication open.

But not by focusing on other generals fighting other battles. This is my war. This is my battleground. My generals have names like Mom. Liza. Dr. Heidi Gray. Ken Goodman. Kymmberly Myrick. Dean and Asako. Richard and Cheryl. Dawn Bowman and Margaret and Kate. Andorra and Karen and Richard and Martin and Lora. My nieces and nephews. These are my generals. My Captains and Kings. My knights in armor. My princesses, my bishops and cardinals, my troops. And deep within me is the hallowed ground we fight for. My life. I didn’t appreciate what I had. Believe me, you can’t until it’s a stained, muddy trampled fucked up bloodstained ruin. But still you fight. You try. I need to stay confident. I need to focus on what’s important here. What I can do. My doctors are doing their job. My troops are ranged in front. The lines of communication are clear. We are engaged with the enemy. So what do I do?

I start reading about other wars. Other battles. I become scared, I’m losing ground. I’m losing focus. I’m losing. What if I lose?

So I have to stop for a minute. Just like Napoleon. Just like Xiang Yu. Like Chief Joseph. Tecumseh. Robert the 1st of Scotland. Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub (he was hardcore, man) Ghengis Khan, Attila, Ramses the first and Ramses the second. Constantin. Wellingon. Nelson. Tsao tsao. Alexander the Great. Cincinnatus. Mom. Liza…

Just stop for a moment and collect myself. That’s all. Wait for the battle to turn, to clear a bit, to SEE before I go rushing off in 10,000 directions. Don’t panic. Breathe. Show confidence to your troops. Your generals need you now. Smile. That’s right. Smile. And plan…

The Battle of Waterloo


18 thoughts on “The Hallowed Ground.

  1. Um. Oh. I was bouncing from one blog to the other (that’s how awesome my Saturday night is) and found myself on this post and now find myself incredibly moved. You are amazing as well as the way you articulate your story… frikking incredible stuff. I’ll happily open a bottle of chard now and peruse your other posts (no more bouncing!)… cheers! 🙂


    • Wow, thanks! I am always amazed that anyone would read anything with the word ‘cancer’ in it. I am told to write. My doctor says its a good thing. Since my main tactic is avoidance, it’s seems she’s right. It feels good to talk about it sometimes. Or as my friend, Cindy’s Nana, used to say, ‘let it out or you’ll get a cancer!’ I should have started earlier, who knows, she could have been onto something. Lol, thanks for the nice comment though.


  2. Yeah, I think you can read those other sites, but you don’t know how good the chiefs of staff are in those situations. That’s them and it’s their fight. This is you, your body, your family. Nobody else in their battle has that on their side.


  3. You have a solid-sounding troop there. Stay off the soggy marshlands of those other blogsites. There are hidden booby traps there. Stick with your men on solid ground. They have your back.
    Hope your holidays were not too shell-shocked, Soldier. Keep sending word to us. We can’t wait to see you come back XO!


  4. Stopping by to say Hi! It has been a while since I have been on here. Hope things are going well. Thinking good thoughts for you –xoxo


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