We had a basketball court in my backyard in Jamaica, Queens.An intense and physical two-on-two was halted when I came down all wrong on my wrist.
We had a basketball court in my backyard in Jamaica, Queens.An intense and physical two-on-two was halted when I came down all wrong on my wrist.Tags: Critique Of Research PapersEssay On A Of Chess In The Waste LandBed And Breakfast Business Plan SampleHelp With Common App EssayHow Are Upc Codes AssignedStudent Homework Help WebsitesCorporate Social Responsibility Benefits Bottom Line EssayFeminist Criticism Essay On A Rose For EmilyExtended Essay Supervision SheetSpondylothesis L5 S1
Sadiqa’s shock that morning quickly turned into a dogged belief that I could survive.
She somehow thinks I can overcome anything; I believe the same thing about her.
And ironically, the book will come out this August, a week after the 37th birthday that I intend to see.
On most days last year, I worried more about whether I’d finish the book than whether I would survive metastatic cancer.
For Ma, the cancer diagnosis was like a doctor telling her she had a cold.
When Sadiqa and I told her about my diagnosis over breakfast after the colonoscopy, it was like a doctor telling her I had a cold.
Or to be more precise, in the quiet of the day I’d worry about finishing the book, in the quiet of the sleepless night about finishing life.
My focus on writing —was perhaps my way of coping with the demoralizing severity of the cancer and the overwhelming discomfort of the treatment, furiously writing and fighting, fighting and writing to heal mind and body, to heal society. In the silence I can scrutinize the collected scholarship and analysis, listen clearly to my assessments and reflections and inventions, paint their picture clearly and attractively on the canvas.
I wanted it to be my last literary contribution to the world.
I wrote it critically and carefully, untroubled about a backlash I might not live to see.