On the most magical of dogs...🍀

[I sent a part of this essay to the program 1A on NPR this morning, but it had to be short. If you have met an Irish Wolfhound, you know that there is nothing short in that experience, so here is the rest.]

Bryn (L) and Ciaragh (R)

When I was diagnosed with cancer three years ago, my Irish Wolfhounds really saw me through it. This is my thank you to them...and don't worry, Willow-Pickle has her own story.

Ciaragh at GARF

Ciaragh (Keerah), my younger girl, was diagnosed with lymphoma shortly after I started chemo. At almost 7, she didn't make it through that battle, even though we were briefly on in the same chemo regimine, so when I rang that bell in Dec of 2023, I could feel her clobberpaws on my chest. You can see it in the video... It looks like I grabbed the rope and got knocked backwards a step or two. Our Cailín Ádh. We were the lucky ones, my Kiki-Bear.

Bryn after a successful heist at GARF

When I finished treatment in 2024, I didn't know it at the time but I was being given the time to focus on walking my 11.5 year old wolfhound Bryn home to the Bridge, as she deserved. Always there with her silly expression and snuggly nature, she made sure that I never gave up because someone had to feed her and give her treats when my husband was at work! Our Bryndled Beastie, who taught us so much about living with these giant, mythical dogs...and how to hide my snacks up HIGH.

Stanley, the Ken Doll of Irish Wolfhounds

And now that I'm navigating my new normal and new body, I have Stanley... He is a huge, gorgeous, blond boy who has learned to help me up off the floor and is just always there, carrying the souls of my two big girls in his beautiful caramel colored eyes. Our Bánbhuí Beastie...my sweet protector and buddy, here to lead me out of my sadness and into the backyard.

🍀

Go raibh míle maith agaibh, a mhadraí luachmhara. Is leatsa mo ghrá go léir.

🍀

Music Monday: Zombie

(No, Tony, I am not making the turn into writing horror...)

This is my latest hyperfixation, partially because he is from West Yorks and his accent makes me homesick but also because he was so close with Ozzy. That makes someone A-OK in my book. But this song took my breath away a little bit, and then more when he said it was for nurses. I remember hearing him say in an interview that it was about his grandparents. For me...it's about me. I'm in a phase right now where the differences Eugene left in me are in the forefront. Not just the weirdly curly hair or the pain in my joints, but the brain fog and the fatigue and everything left by the efforts to yeet Eugene. The lines: 

If I was to talk about the words

They would hurt, they would hurt

So if you were to ask about the pain

I would lie, I would lie

To fix my mind, I need time

I want me back, but I am forced to get to know this new me...and I don't always like her. Don't worry...I will make peace with her, it's just taking a longer time than I'd thought.

Enjoy. The lyrics are in TEENY captions on the screen.

Music Monday on Tuesday: Kyrie, y'all

I've recently started listening to a playlist I call Music Therapy after seeing loads of fellow Gen X folks financing to "our" music on the clock app. This one came on and it struck me that it was spot on for the past two years of cancer treatment for me. The title, "Kyrie Eleison" which means "Lord Have Mercy" is more than a prayer to God in the Christian tradition, to me anyway. In my mind, it is a general call for help... and it worked for me during those years. I had a tribe, a found family, in the form of a private social media group called "Yeeting Eugene," and those folks pulled me along on days I couldn't do it myself. So here is my reminder to ask for help... and mercy. I hope it helps you too. (The video has captions for the lyrics.)

 

Music Monday: Of Befores and Afters

Today's Music Monday is a little bit about my current WIP and the FMC, but also a lot about me and my current situation. I was listening to it the other day and just reveling in the lyrics as I often do with Taylor Swift's music, but then I saw the video. All those past iterations of her arguing at the end made me think - I am not the same person I was this time last year when Eugene was discovered to be stage III breast cancer and not just a recurrence of my cyst from a decade ago. I've heard Hoda Kotb say that she has two lives now, pre and post breast cancer and that's very true.

It isn't just about the ways in which I look different now, post-chemo/radiation/bilateral mastectomy. Those things are surface level, really. The change that is sticking and that I'm thinking a lot about today is the change that happens to the me that was and the me that is. In early days, I just wanted to be through all the treatment, "so I can get back to my life." That, at the time, meant back to my then normal - hybrid remote work for the DayJob™️, appearance at the Georgia Renaissance Festival with Ciaragh, working all kinds of fandom conventions and other faires to sign my books...getting on with working toward being a full time author. Planning for our move abroad. Hanging out as much as I can with my US based friends before that move happens.

That stuff belonged to who I was before. Some of it has transitioned with me: the friends, the book signings on a smaller scale, the working toward being a full time author, and the DayJob™️ have all remained, just in different guises and on changed levels. But the renaissance festival appearances with the Hounds of East Fairhaven are in limbo at present - Ciaragh's death from lymphoma means I no longer have a rennie hound. The move abroad has been put off for a bit. Hanging out with the friends as much as possible has become keeping in touch as best I can and hanging out once in awhile.

But it's all okay. Eugene...look what you made me do. I am now worth the changes, even though they were awful in a lot of places. Welcome to the second half of my life.

Lyric Video: 

Regular video with, oddly, Japanese captions:

Music Monday: Still Unwritten

This has been a weird couple of days, culminating in Music Monday almost being forgotten. Last Thursday I went to my appointment with "plastics" (as my oncologist calls the reconstruction doctor), expecting to have made progress that would not only move me forward in the journey but also allow me to sleep in the bed again for the first time in a month.

Instead, I was booked in for last minute surgery on Friday at 2pm - which meant I was WAY HANGRY by the time we got to that point. But I think now I'm back on the road to healing and ready to get back to writing. I need to write so badly it itches. That's why this song speaks to me this week. I'm still looking out that dirty window, but I'm getting ready to let the sun illuminate the words I can't find. Enjoy. (Lyrics in the video.)

My 2023 was a blur...

From one Annus Horribilis into another...?

So as I was looking for something in my blog, I came across my New Year's Eve wrap up from 2010 and I thought I'd just share this bit before launching into the same for today:

June wasn't hot, but it wasn't freezing anymore either, which was quite nice. I'm going to include July here as well, because there was one event that absolutely stole focus for all of us for the entire month. I found a lump in one of my breasts. I survived having what turned out to be a cyst drained, as well as a needle-core biopsy (google that if you want to be scared out of your mind) that showed absolutely nothing. Mind you, I'd planned my funeral in the six weeks from finding the pitch invader to the results of the biopsy, and I've never been so glad to hear a doctor say he recommended that I not come back to him again.

Yeah, so I think that was the bit of tissue that became Eugene, my breast cancer tumor. I have the gene mutation that won't stop cells from growing out of control, which is how Eugene came to be. But I think it is interesting that I thought THAT was awful. I've done so much more awful since then. 

So, January - June were pretty much status quo around here. I sold books and met wonderful people at the Atlanta Steampunk Expo and the Georgia Renaissance Festival and put in applications/made plans for many other events in the months to follow.

In June, I decided to be a grown up and finally get signed on with a new GYN since my insurance had changed who was in my providers list and I'd passed the 50 years old mark. I also attended ConCarolinas for the fourth time including the virtual weirdness that was 2020.

In July, I was diagnosed with Stage III-B breast cancer that had not spread beyond the tumor itself and some lymph nodes just behind it. I named it Eugene and started a long line of medical appointments as well as attended ConGregate 9 - which was far and away more fun. I started chemo on 31 July.

In August I continued chemo, started awful shots that jacked up my immune system, and waved goodbye to my hair. I will say, though, that experience wasn't as bad as others have experienced and I was expecting...but I'm glad it's over. 

In September, I continued chemo and changed from The Red Devil cocktail every two weeks to a lighter weight poison called Taxol that was administered weekly. I waved a one-fingered salute at those immune system shots with the switch. I also attended the Upstate Renaissance Faire as a vendor for the first time, since the 2022 faire was a monsoon and my tent tried to pull a Poppins so we had to pack up and head home. I met some really great folks and sold more books than I had at any event to date so...good times, if not a little hot.

In October, I continued chemo and attended Multiverse for the first time with two magnificent human sherpas and one canine salesman extraordinaire. A new show is always nerve wracking, and after a rough start (I showed up THIRTY MINUTES late for a panel that I was on...), it was an amazing time.

In November, I attended the Geekery Market in Concord, NC, for the first time. That one was so much fun - again with two amazing sherpas to help me - and I am so excited for the next one. I should have been selling/signing/meeting/greeting at CRF again, but that event has changed to something that doesn't work for out-of-town authors. I also continued chemo and got to have it ON MY BIRTHDAY, but that wasn't so bad - does everyone have an oncologist who lip-syncs to Stevie Wonder and dances in the middle of the infusion suite? No? 

In December, I finished chemo and rang the life out of that bell...for me and for our Ciaragh, who lost her fight with lymphoma. I celebrated Christmas, sort of, and watched SO MUCH AMERICAN FOOTBALL. 

So... what's next? Surgery in late January, possible radiation in February, and hopefully the grand return of my hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes. Then the reconstruction process continues, per "plastics" as the cancer center calls my reconstruction surgeon, in late summer/early fall and I am DONE. Dunne and Done. I promise there won't be too many posts like this because it's all kinds of TMI but fingers crossed that a year from now I have loads more fun stuff to report!

January 2024 Newsletter

Here we are at the start of a New Year, and my one resolution is to do better at this newsletter thing. Let's begin with a bit of a catch-up, shall we?

The second half of last year was filled with medial issues that I'm pleased to say are about 85% behind me...at least for now. There are two-three more hurdles to clear and I should be back to my normal level of chaos...and I am looking forward to that!

I'm still working on final edits on Hero, struggling through writing on the collab (that I still can't talk too much about), and re-discovering two YA novels that I found buried in my Nanowrimo folder. More on those later - I'd like to have them out by the end of 2024 but I'd also like to be able to fly and to speak all the languages and...and...and...

Old Lady Kaylee Frye sells books
at ConCarolinas

On to appearances/shows/signings in 2024: Those last hurdles I mentioned will keep me from being at ConPossible in February, but I have lined up two trusty sherpas to man my table with signed copies of my books. This is the Con formerly known as the Atlanta Steampunk Expo and I'm just gutted not to be able to be there this time - these folks are so nice and so welcoming!

Hopefully I will be able to attend the Dahlonega Literary Festival in March, but there will be more on that as January and February roll along. This will be a new event for me, so fingers crossed there.

I'm still discussing logistics with the Georgia Renaissance Festival for an author event there, so watch this space for more information. I'm hoping it will be scheduled before Georgia turns into the surface of the sun, but I grew up there so I know it could be hot there right now. 

Once I have heard from more events and shows I will add to this list. I'm hoping for a return to ConCarolinas and ConGregate. Again, watch this space.

Finally, I could not do any of this without you, especially now, and I so appreciate all of your support. Remember, if you want to help an author, one of the best ways is to leave a review - it helps other folks find my work and it gives me very important feedback that can only make future novels better.

Thanks y'all! Happy New Year!

Music Monday: A Wink from my Dad

In case you were wondering, I've gone to Whamhalla. I lost on Saturday at the end of a Newcastle United game, when the person running the tannoy decided to play "Last Christmas" in the stadium and for once, Peacock didn't shut off access to the program early. Ah well, if I have to go out coasting on a 3-0 win for my Magpies, that's okay.

I thought about putting up Last Christmas as this week's Music Monday, but that would be Mary Jane levels of Petty and I'm just not there...yet. Instead, I want to share a story I shared on social media yesterday about what I've started calling "winks" from the universe. These have happened at important times during my chemo treatment, and I imagine that they will continue through the rest of this journey:

Got a wink from my Daddy when I sat down to rest and "She's Got a Way" by Billy Joel came on? ✅️He told me once that this song was on the radio in the car when he got pulled over for speeding on the way to the hospital because I was being born. Apparently they went early, Mom stayed and he went back to get things, and I guess was flying back to the hospital in his Corvair. So it was "my" song from then on.

I looked it up and while that song did indeed debut in November of 1971 like I did, I doubt he would have remembered what was on the radio that day. But he heard it a lot when I was new, and that might have made it my song too. My Daddy was magic like that.

Music Monday: Of Time and Bottles

This week starts a new round of infusion treatment for me and a new round of uncertainty. In that vein (see what I did there?), this song is speaking to me, because I'm not a real fan of being unprepared by design. I need to know what's coming, but you can't, of course. So when I was listening to this song as a part of my Nanowrimo 23 prep, the line "But there never seems to be enough time/ To do the things you want to do once you find them" really struck me. The first round of treatment I focused only on the treatment. I planned my life around it. And to some extent, you have to do that...but I haven't written anything since July's Camp Nano save my Very Short Stories on the bird app. That has to change. That will change. There is enough of me to do both. Let's do this. Hand me that bottle.

(lyrics on screen)

Music Monday: More magic than tragic

This weekend was a welcome return to normal...whatever that means. I spent the weekend at the Upstate Renaissance Festival in Greer, SC, signing/selling books and talking writing with loads of people. I was apprehensive because my booth mate, the marvelous Misty Massey, had car trouble on Thursday and couldn't join me. I wasn't sure that I could do it - but when I got there, my years as a Rennie and my years of selling books kicked in and it was a breeze. The organizers and staff are amazing, and I'm planning to put in my application for next year as soon as they open!

The intrepid author melts into her seat...

My cozy little tent, Friday evening.

In fact, on Saturday, it was a swift breeze that made my canopy jumpy, but there was no lift off like last year. But I digress...

Hey look, I've got the same garb as...fifty-eleven others.

The view from the chair...

So the moral of this story is that cancer treatment has changed a lot over the years, and I must just be too stubborn to let it beat me. First round is finished as of this morning and I still feel pretty good. Bring it!

For Music Monday I've chosen a song by the late Jimmy Buffett to remind all of us how to get through tough days...Breathe in, breathe out, move on. Thanks, Sailor, for showing us how to live.

Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move Onby Jimmy Buffett
I bought a cheap watch from a crazy manFloating down canalIt doesn't use numbers or moving handsIt always just says now
Now you may be thinking that I was hadBut this watch is never wrongAnd if I have trouble, the warranty saidBreathe in, breathe out, move on
And it rained, it was nothing really newAnd it blew, we've seen all that beforeAnd it poured, the Earth began to strainPontchartrain leaking through the door, tides at war
If a hurricane doesn't leave you deadIt will make you strongDon't try to explain it, just nod your headBreathe in, breathe out, move on
And it rained, nothing really newAnd it blew, seen all that beforeAnd it poured, the Earth began to strainPontchartrain buried the ninth ward to the second floor
According to my watch, the time is nowPast is dead and goneDon't try to shake it, just nod your headBreathe in, breathe out, move on
Don't try to explain it, just bow your headBreathe in, breathe out, move on

Time to be Brave...like the Lettuce...and Leap.

Right Outta Nowhere by Christine Kane. Lyrics in CC.

 Hey there, all you dozen or so Lettuce Readers. Today's post is going to differ somewhat from my normal musical musings and appearance agendas. Today, I want to tell you something that hasn't been made public yet, but I think it's time to come clean.

Leap, and the net will appear, right?

So, back in June, I got a doctor's appointment with a new doc - hooray for insurance companies that switch up preferred providers, right? Anyway, starting on June 7th, I was seen, poked, prodded, bombarded with several types/levels of radiation, and at the end of it all was diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer.

Still leaping, still hoping for that net.

I started chemo on July 31st, and as of this writing am about to finish the first round. It hasn't been too bad, other than my scalp yeeting most of my hair and some days where I just felt not quite right. But I am thankful beyond measure that most of the side effects they warned me about either didn't happen or were so slight that I could manage them. I was also having a week in between each infusion, so that helped with getting me back to normal...ish. 

On the 25th of this month, I will start a new round with a new drug, but this time it will be every week, so here's hoping my luck holds out longer than I fear my eyebrows and eyelashes will. My oncologist says that he sees I am responding well, so I guess that means that the tumor (whom I have named Eugene) is reacting unfavorably to the chemotherapy. Good. I hope it hurts, Eugene. I hope it hurts.

So why am I telling you this? Well, I'm staring down an author appearance at the Upstate Renaissance Faire in Greer, SC this weekend and for the first time I will be out in public, all day, in garb. I've mostly been staying home since diagnosis, and even cancelled my trip to Baltimore for my DayJob™ professional conference before any of this wacky rollercoaster ride started. No one outside of my families of origin and choice have seen me in person, especially since my hair fell out. I needed to be okay with this, I guess, before it became public knowledge.

Am I okay with it now? Of course not, but that keeps me fighting. I'm not a warrior, by any means, but I will be a survivor.

Trusting the net will appear.

So, here goes. I'm taking a first brave step out into a wider world, like my MC Gin did when she was yanked out of the Great Forest in Wanderer. (Y'all didn't think I'd completely stop pushing my books, did you? 😂) I just hope that I can handle what comes with the same grace that she did...and does. I hope to see you at the faire this weekend, at Multiverse in Atlanta in October, and the Geekery Market in Concord in November. I'm usually up for hugs, but I may need masks in place first. 

Leap and the net will appear.

Night, night, Little Man.

Mills!, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

"And when the stars fall
I will lie awake
You're my shooting star. "
-Michelle Branch

Mills Dunne
31 May 1998-30 October 2011

My knees are cold.

For the past 5 years or so, there has been a greyhound in the bed with me every night that I've slept in my bed at home. I could wake in the middle of the night from a wonky dream or because my sinuses are again waging war on my respiratory system and reach just behind my knees and find a warm furry body...and a soul that reminded me that I wasn't stuck in a never-stopping elevator or trapped under the stairs at the Manchester airport, but I was home with my furry family and it was okay.

My knees are cold.

On Friday morning Scott and I made the decision to cease treatment of Profile's tumor that had invaded the muscles that spread over the top of his skinny little pointed head. The vet told me things like "mottled places on the skull" and "could degenerate quickly" and "small chance of relief from surgery." I heard over and over "it's done, you now have two greyhounds instead of three, and your knees are going to be cold." Just like that...I walked out into the parking lot at the vet hospital and called my parents, crying my eyes out, while Scott made arrangements with the vet. Just like that...I woke up that morning and had three, now I had two. Just like that...Profee walked into the back area of the vet's office, as proud and brave as ever, and I never saw my handsome man again.

But I'm okay. Much more okay than I thought I'd be. I cried a lot, but I'm done crying, at least for now. I packed up his collars and muzzle and put them out of sight till I'm ready. I cleaned up the toys he'd thrown around the den and vaccumed his hair out of the carpet. I loved that dog so much...Profile and I went through injuries together, he helped me be steady when my vertigo hit, he could understand me in two languages...he was always looking out for me, even to go so far as to look into the shower to make sure the water wasn't hurting me. But I'm okay.

Urban Family asked me to join them Sunday night for dinner, and when I spoke to my dear friend in Yorkshire he said that he was glad I was out with people because apparently all of them thought I was going to put my head in the oven just as soon as I got back to Montgomery. Not so. My oven is electric anyway, and I don't do crispy.

So to my Profee-Man, My Noodle, My Bubby-Boy, godspeed. Thank you for the past six years. There is so much of it that I couldn't have gotten through without you. SO much. Thank you for listening and for not minding if I got your fur wet when I needed to cry. Thank you for ALWAYS knowing when to lick me on the end of the nose, especially right after you'd licked something unpleasant. Thank you for the crop circles you left in the leaves out in the backyard, and for the bits of plastic bag that I'm still finding in the den from the last time I took too long to let you out. Thank you for finding your way back to me after you were adopted that one time. Thank you for finding me, I'd been lost for a very long time.

Much love, Noodle. MUCH love. My knees will be cold but my heart is warm.

Mommy

Wise Beyond his Years

i dont know if this will help at all but maybe instead of thinking of the cancer as a totaly bad thing think of it as his special little message to you to tell you that he is getting close to learning how to love and wanted to let you know so that you would be ready when ever his time does come and so you can prepare your self.

-R. Cales, 14 years old, commenting on my guilt that I've let Profile down...he had said earlier in that message that each creature on the earth is here to learn how to love and then is called "back home." Animals catch on faster than humans, and therefore their lives aren't as long.

Profile

he looked the same tonight
when I got home from work, tired
from a long day of problems
psychosis
target languages and long training sessions

he looked the same as this morning
when I left him in his crate
settling in for a day of napping
a day of not caring
making a nest of comforters to comfort his tired body

he looked the same when I got home
after getting the news
after knowing that the knot on his head
the bulge just behind his left ear may kill him
he looked the same

don't know what I expected
thought about him all day long
thought about not having him around
thought about not having done enough
not having loved him enough
not having worked hard enough
not having enough money to save him

he looked the same to me
he looked up to me
I let him down

promised to keep him safe and warm
promised to keep him fed and dry
promised to protect him, but the enemy came anyway
the silent enemy
the enemy that will take my boy from me
the enemy that will take my heart from me
piece by piece until it's gone

I'd just gotten it back.

he looks the same to me still
curled on my bed
wound into my heart

he looks the same to me

-N, 28 November 2006