Advocacy

The final stage, it lies forgotten,
Drowned out in a world made of pink.
Breast cancer is cured, they say,
And it applies to even us, they think.

This is not true, the fight and hope,
We fight among the best.
But the cancer has its foothold
Far beyond our breast.

It matters not the gender
Or the age of who is claimed.
Religion, race, creed, or country,
It takes us all the same.

We see a finer beauty left to live
And, too, we keenly feel
The loss of moments now denied-
A reality too real.

To honor our fallen brethren,
We must raise a hue and cry,
And bring awareness for the Fourth
Before our own time comes to die.

Metastatic cancer is oft ignored
In favor of those who survive.
We beg researchers to forget us not,
For we too are still alive.

The ones who found theirs early,
Metastasis strikes even they.
Thirty percent cannot run nor hide,
And struggle to keep it at bay.

Ten percent more are metastatic
From the time they're initially seen.
For them, the hope of cancer-free
Has died before they can dream.

Of all the funding raised in the pink
A mere two percent goes toward mets.
The rest goes to CEOs and overheads,
And programs for early detect.

Thirty percent for the thirty
Is all that we ask, nothing more.
It's time to acknowledge metastatic disease
And to stop ignoring Stage IV.

PSA

So I have it on good authority that my choices for background music for my funeral viewing suck. No Jpop for me. All the cries. ;_;

Oh, well. I suppose when it comes to music, I really should listen to the person who 1) will be there to listen to it and 2) can actually HEAR the music in the first place.

Funeral viewings aren't exactly the place for peppy, perky songs sung in Japanese. Gosh darn it all to heck.

And I accidentally resolved my dilemma about when to share this blog with Jen by sharing it on FetLife in a comment on the Breast Cancer Suvivor/Support group and she saw my comment show up on her feed.

Oops. Oh, well. That solved that problem, I guess.

And yeah, I'm on FetLife. I have all the sexual drive of a rock thanks to the medications, but the snark groups there (like Spectators Only, No Participants and Profile Pitfalls) are always good for a laugh. Oh noes. The world knows I have a passing interest in Kink (and yes, oh god yes, it predates 50 Shades of Utter Crap) however shall I cope.

yes, basically.

In other news, Mom's getting me my first pedicure tomorrow. We shall see how this adventure goes. Related, I have two new pairs of shoes. A pair of gray peek toe pumps, and a pair of black solid toe pumps. They are surprisingly comfortable for my feet not wearing anything but sandals in forever.

I also picked up some new ecig juice to try. Bavarian Cream. Mmmmmmmmm.

The Silent Beast

It lurks within,
The silent beast,
It travels through our veins.
It moves about
From cell to cell,
And brings fatigue and pain.
There are ways
To slow it down,
To halt it in its spread;
But only brief,
This slight reprieve,
From the beast that wants us dead.
There's different kinds,
The common lump;
A painful, reddish rash;
It can start small,
And spread around,
An indistinct thick mass.
There's surgery,
There's medicine,
There's radioactive rays.
There's hope and prayer
That this works
So we might see more days.
There is no cure,
No surefast fix,
And all our days we borrow
From this beast-
Metastatic cancer-
Which robs us of tomorrow.

Songs for Funeral and Visitation

So actually my choices suck :D Never mind this post.

These are songs I'd like to have played at the funeral itself, and as a background songtrack at the visitation. The songs are in the best order for the funeral, but for the visitation soundtrack, I'm not sure on how they ought to be arranged, I'm going more by lyrical content and not sound. If the visitation window is longer than the length of the songs, plus the four for the funeral, then that's what looping things is for. Listing each song, with a short excerpt of lyrics.

Funeral: 

These Are the Days of Our Lives, Queen

Those were the days of our lives
The bad things in life were so few
Those days are all gone now but one thing is true
When I look and I find I still love you

When the Crowds are Gone, Savatage

So I plot and I plan, Hope and I scheme
To the lure of a night, Filled with unfinished dreams
I'm holding on tight, To a world gone astray
As they charge me for years, I can no longer pay

City of Hope, Stevie Nicks

The years don't really matter. It's just a matter of time.
Ooh, it's just a quality Of a few precious hours.
And the charmed one, No matter how bad it is,
Well, I've already lost One guiding light.

High Hopes, Pink Floyd

Beyond the horizon of the place we lived when we were young,
In a world of magnets and miracles,
Our thoughts strayed constantly and without boundary,
The ringing of the division bell had begun.

Visitation: 

Amazing Grace, The Maverick Choir (no lyrical excerpt - everyone knows this song, this particular cover, however, is upbeat and joyful.)

A Place in the Circle, Rich Follett

Oh, my friends, oh, my loved ones, I must leave you.
My time has run like water through a sieve.
Gentle souls, do not let my passing grieve you.
Better far to rejoice that I have lived.

I Will, Sowelu

If it's the overflowing tears, it's okay that they don't stop now
Light should be shining into the finale of the sadness
Time that passes by unhesitatingly and unhurriedly
I won't forget the pain that changes into kindness

Lost Heaven, L'Arc~en~Ciel

We’ll say goodbye, lost Heaven.
How we longed for Heaven.
We’re letting go of something we never had.
Time goes so fast, Heaven is lost.

I'll Meet You There, Whiteheart

Now we must say good-bye,
And find our road ahead.
Destiny leads us to a better place,
And I'll meet you there someday.

My Last Step Beyond, Edenbridge

The guardian angels they're calling my name
An astral dream in the sky?
They're dancing at the carnival of souls
They dance into the light into eternal light

Seasons of Love, RENT

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand journeys to plan
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

I Grieve, Peter Gabriel

I grieve for you. You leave me.
So hard to move on, Still loving what's gone,
They say life carries on, Carries on, and on, and on.

Thanatopsis

These are the excerpts of Thanatopsis I'd like read at my funeral, someday far into the future. I've always loved this poem. I honestly prefer Emily Dickinson's views on death, but none of her poems have quite the right feel to be read. They're powerful, but a bit too raw and blunt. This has the right tone and the right level of comfort.

Thanatopsis - by William Cullen Bryant

The following are the desired excerpts. Full poem can be found at the link above.

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place  
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish  
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down  
With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings,  
The powerful of the earth—the wise, the good,  
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,  
All in one mighty sepulchre.   The hills  
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,—the vales  
Stretching in pensive quietness between;  
The venerable woods—rivers that move  
In majesty, and the complaining brooks  
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,  
Old Ocean’s gray and melancholy waste,—  
Are but the solemn decorations all  
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,  
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,  
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,  
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread  
The globe are but a handful to the tribes  
That slumber in its bosom.—Take the wings  
Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,  
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods  
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,  
Save his own dashings—yet the dead are there:  
And millions in those solitudes, since first  
The flight of years began, have laid them down  
In their last sleep—the dead reign there alone.

 So live, that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan, which moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

I know that funerals are for the living, not the dead. The funeral should by rights be what loved ones left behind want, not what the dead want. But damnit, it'll be my last party, and I want people to attend and see my touch, my personality, my presence in everything. I'll be there in spirit - quite literally.