Remains of woman found off Ten Mile Point

I’m always looking for any new excuse to give cancer another kick to the nards. So last Sunday, after downing a dozen raw oysters and a couple of kir royales, I went to the same post-diagnosis beach in Ten Mile Point that I cried my sorry eyes out one year ago and tossed my beloved/despicable chemo sweater into the ocean.

The plan was to build a sacrificial fire, but Pete and I decided to heed the warnings to avoid having Bif and Fifi come out of their beachfront mansion to wag their perfectly manicured fingers at us.

So I spread my long grey sweater on the shore, grabbed a big rock, tied the nubby sleeves around and around it and stood at the edge of the water while Pete took pictures.

 

After a couple of good swings, goodbye sweater.

It sank like a hot damn and I felt a little lift inside of me. Four months of layer upon layer of clothes to keep warm while the cocktail of death beat the cancer out of me. Hair in the shower drain. Hair on my pillow. Hair on the deck with an over-eager husband and pet clippers. Endless scarves and hats and an eternally cold neck. Stubborn veins. Sickening smells. Doubts and death thoughts and miniscule victories. All wrapped up in an ugly Gap sweater on sale for $9.99.

I hope someone finds the blasted thing in a few weeks or months and thinks some woman must’ve jumped or fell. I hope someone feels a moment of horror as they imagine there are limbs or hair or bloated skin inside. It’s a little piece of cancer in there and it’s floating out to Japan.

I thought about my new cancer cousin, who has recently begun downing the chemo martinis and how it seems endless when you’re in it. There is so a series of little endings, and for me it looks something like this beach in Cadboro Bay.