13 years ago this month my daughter Taylor died from brain cancer. Her book Daydreams & Diaries by Taylor Black was published by Untreed Reads in San Francisco. The publisher notified me that the book is on sale for $3.50 for the ebook version. The print version is 30 percent off. Proceeds go to Taylors nieces college account. Taylor kept a diary- here are the first entries. Taylor’s Diary September 23, 2000 I have just lived through the most indescribable night of my life. It all began when I was taking a shower on Thursday afternoon. My vision started to go in and out, I couldn’t breathe. The next thing I know, I’m lying on the shower floor. I stood up and brushed it off as some fluke accident. For the rest of the day I was perfectly fine. And then, yesterday morning, my left leg became heavy and began to drag. Still, I thought nothing of it. So, naturally I thought Mom was going a bit overboard when she insisted on taking me to the Emergency Room. There I was, extremely frustrated wasting a perfectly good Friday night in a hospital waiting room. Finally, they got me in and took a bunch of tests and did a CT scan. When the doctor returned he looked visibly shaken. He approached us as if we were porcelain dolls, whispering something about a mass on my brain. All of the sudden I was whisked away in a wheelchair. As I looked down at the chart that I held in my hands I couldn’t believe what was written there. Diagnosis: brain tumor. This can’t be me, things like this happen to other people. People I don’t know. And so I settled into my hospital bed, too shocked to think. Then, Mom left to get my stuff (and freak out I’m sure) and I called Jeff to have him reassure me that this was a mistake. After I hung up on him, I called Katie to tell her that I was not going out with her tonight. Mom returned looking like she had been violently crying and bringing Chad with her. He assured me that everything was going to be alright and asked me if he should call my Dad. No way, that is just what I need on top of this mess: a dead father. Because if he were awoken at midnight and told that I have a brain tumor he surely would have a heart attack right then and there. No, I’ll tell him tomorrow. September 28, 2000 These past few days have been a whirlwind. It feels like a haze has overcome me. Everyone is sending cards and calling. They look at me as if they have just run over my puppy. It is a look that reaffirms the magnitude of what is happening. Tomorrow I go in for brain surgery. I’m still waiting to wake up from the nightmare. They are not sure what kind of tumor it is. So I’m spending the night before my surgery watching TV and talking on the phone. This can’t be real! I have never, until last week, spent the night in a hospital and now I’m going for surgery tomorrow. Maybe after I do this then it will all turn out to be no big deal and everyone will feel stupid for getting so crazy over nothing. The doctor claims he will cut as little hair as possible. I hope he is telling the truth. So, I have to go under the knife for 8 hours and then this will all be over. Well, that’s not bad I guess. I suppose I should get some rest. I: How Fathers Become Marshmallows LikeLike · Tim Black
Posted on: Mon, 03 Nov 2014 21:13:29 +0000
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