Mesothelioma is no Ebola but knowing this makes the disease no less scary for those it affects. A few weeks ago, I didn’t even know what it was until I was contacted by Cameron Von St. James, the husband of a Mesothelioma survivor. He requested I help spread awareness about the disease by simply writing a blog post. I am no expert, I admit. I’ve never had experience with this disease. But their story of survival, of hope and faith touched me somehow. And if sharing with you a few things I’ve learnt while doing my research could help – even just a little bit – how could I refuse Cameron’s request?
Sometimes I stare at the black page, not knowing what to say but the words always come. Sometimes they creep timidly across the screen and I can hardly bear the taste of their sound in my mouth. So most times I write freely — silencing the inner critic inside me — until the blank page is filled with words.
9:15 am (Fri)
When I was a child one of my favorite experiences with my family was when we would go to the country. Dad would fill the car tank with gas and we’d drive to Freetown, Manchester. I loved my Grandpa the most — he’d take us on a donkey ride through the community and introduce us to grandaunts, granduncles and distant cousins who’d always be eager to wrap us in a bear hug and kiss our cheeks. I loved those times despite the motion sickness syndrome that would result in my sisters and I throwing up several times on the way to country. Times like those cemented in my mind why families were most important.
It’s a new month and I’m excited. Though September signifies yet again how quickly the year scurries by, it also offers opportunity for me to start afresh. I’ve decided that I need to do something I haven’t done in a long time — I’m going back to school! But before you get too excited, let me clarify. I’m not talking about formal education through a university or college . I’m taking about creating that structure in my life that facilitates lifelong learning.
Greg and I on our Wedding Day :)
I’ve been a hopeless romantic for years. When I was about 13 years old I was already praying for my future husband, reading tons of horrible romance novels and hoping for a future filled with love and happiness. I guess that’s the dream for most of us. We yearn for companionship, for an opportunity to love and be loved in return. We want to know the secret to finding the happiness for which our hearts yearn. But too often we are looking in the wrong direction, towards a world that tells us we need to have a perfect body, fat bank accounts and a host of other things to fulfill this innate desire.
I feel like my brain’s all burnt out. This week I went to Kingston to collect an award I received for a short story I wrote. At the awards ceremony for the JCDC Jamaica Creative Writing Competition I was a bit surprised. There were way more prizes than I expected including gift baskets, cash awards, etc. I only entered one story though so next time I’ll be submitting a few poems and short stories. It really was an excellent experience, like a milestone. And for that I’m grateful.
I have great news! I know I should tease you a bit, leave a few hints here and there. But I’m so excited I doubt I can wait until the third paragraph to tell you what’s been on my mind. Yesterday evening I got an unexpected email. Attached in the email was an invitation to an award ceremony based on my entry in this year’s JCDC Jamaica Creative Writing Competition.