Selections from Inventions in the Key of C Barrington Smith-Seetachitt
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Florida State University Libraries Electronic Theses, Treatises and Dissertations The Graduate School 2008 Selections from Inventions in the Key of C Barrington Smith-Seetachitt Follow this and additional works at the FSU Digital Library. For more information, please contact [email protected] FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY COLLEGE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES SELECTIONS FROM INVENTIONS IN THE KEY OF C By BARRINGTON SMITH-SEETACHITT A Thesis submitted to the Department of English In partial fulfillment of the Requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts Degree Awarded: Summer Semester, 2008 Copyright © 2008 Barrington Smith-Seetachitt All Rights Reserved The members of the Committee approve the thesis of Barrington Smith-Seetachitt defended on June 12, 2008. ___________________________ Diane Roberts Professor Directing Thesis ____________________________ Ned Stuckey-French Committee Member _____________________________ Elizabeth Stuckey-French Committee Member ___________________________ Ralph Berry Chair of the Department of English The Office of Graduate Studies has verified and approved the above named committee members. ii To the staff and my fellow alumni at the February 2003 Life and Living Program. I think of you often. iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Special thanks to my committee members, Diane Roberts, Elizabeth Stuckey-French and Ned Stuckey-French for their excellent artistic and editorial input, personal time, and moral support. iv TABLE OF CONTENTS Abstract vi INTRODUCTION 1 1. LUCK, STATISTICS, MAGIC 2 2. THE C-WORD 17 3. SURE, IT’S KILLING US BUT… 29 4. CALL ME ISHMAEL A CANCER SURVIVOR 37 5. SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE BE A CANCER SURVIVOR 44 6. MY STRATEGY ON THE GROUND 66 7. DETOUR, CANCERLAND 72 REFERENCES 84 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 87 v ABSTRACT Selections from Inventions in the Key of C is a collection of essays about cancer and issues related to cancer. Books on the topic of cancer are plentiful. There are a number of narrative memoirs including The Red Devil, by Kathryn Russell Rich, and It’s Not About the Bike by Lance Armstrong. In the self-help/inspirational area are numerous books ranging from nutrition to positive thinking to navigating the practicalities of living with cancer; I believe I have noticed on the bookstore shelves Cancer For Dummies. Susan Sontag’s Illness as a Metaphor looks critically at how cancer, and people with cancer are perceived, as do significant portions of some thoughtful memoirs, such as Arthur Frank’s At the Will of the Body, and Ken Wilbur’s Grace and Grit. This work in it’s present state might be most closely compared to another collection, Anatole Broyard’s Intoxicated by My Illness. Broyard, in a series of essays and journal entries, entertains a number of subjects related to his cancer: from the nature of illness, to relationships with doctors, his friend’s reactions, and his thoughts on other illness-related literature. While I believe that some of my essays will stand alone and be of interest to literary readers, it is my feeling that the eventual work will appeal to an audience that is in both broader—comprised of people who read popular literature--and narrower –those who have an existing interest in cancer. The essays in this collection range in style from the personal with small amounts of information embedded in the conversation, to the journalistic merely accented with a personal sensibility. This diversity was deliberate. In terms of process, the “journalistic” pieces marked the greatest departure from my previous work and proved to be the most challenging, perhaps because in my preparation I did not find models specifically for this type of writing, which would perhaps have revealed strategies for balancing dense information and tone. For the future, I would like to spend more time reading authors who successfully present specialized material to a lay audience, especially with a first person point of view. Further development of this work would definitely include a concluding section for “Sure it’s Killing Us,” and I would also like add a few more personal essays for the purpose of balance. Here are some ideas: A speculation (humorous) on how the 1960’s television series, Star Trek might influenced my core beliefs about gender roles and the universe, and ultimately contributed to my “cancer personality” (“Star Trek Gave Me Cancer”). A humorous/confessional essay about my “celebrity cancer curiousity,” perhaps incorporating results from an informal survey of other cancer survivors and their relationship to celebrity cancer in the news (“But I’m Not a Stalker or Anything”). A personal experience/information piece about Buddhism, studies in mind- science and the pros and cons of meditation (“How Cancer Made Me a Quasi-Buddhist”). vi INTRODUCTION There is a point in the cancer journey, when the panic of being diagnosed has subsided, the initial frenzy of “treating” the cancer—in whatever form that takes—has subsided; a point at which the necessary focus on self--that has been an emotional reflex and also required for the myriad logistics of planning, scheduling shopping, meeting doctors and negotiating with insurance companies—can begin to soften. It was at this point that I began once again to look outward. I found in myself the desire to see my experience in a larger context, to examine how it fit in, question what it might mean, observe how it had changed my perceptions. And at the same time, however that my mind enjoys following its flights of fancy, tangents about language and constructing my own narrative history, I am also ever aware that such entertainments are predicated first on survival. Thus I have a strong and ongoing interest in developing best practices to support that survival. Philosophical questions exist closely intertwined with practical considerations. This is the case for me, and though I don’t imagine I speak for every cancer survivor, conversation and experience lead me to believe that my thoughts and reactions are not too dissimilar from numbers of people who have been faced with a similar experience. There are a lot of us just trying to find our way through a new, treacherous though interesting landscape. If I manage to wander down paths that are still largely unworn, then I’d like leave some markers, tie scraps of fabric around a few trees, in the hopes that those who come after will be able to look even further a-field. In the end, I found that I have written these essays for myself, but I hope also for anyone who finds him or herself in similar places. I wish us all the best of luck on our journeys. 1 LUCK, STATISTICS, MAGIC Luck I must have been about eight when the toy store at the mall held the prize drawing. The large stuffed animals were displayed in the middle of the shopping center. Above, a plush gorilla hung from a green plastic vine. On the floor below stood a menagerie of almost life-sized creatures—lions, tigers, zebras and camels—in a jungle of paper grass and polystyrene trees, all cordoned off with velvet rope. This was the late seventies, before the advent of food courts, but during the heyday of a restaurant called Orange Julius. It was probably fear of sticky orange fingers that inspired the rope, which, combined with certain pictures from Sunday school, left me with the odd impression that I was looking through the guardrails to the deck of Noah’s ark, retro-fitted with fake grass. When my sister, Moira, and I told my father we intended to win an animal, he said, “Well, sometimes you have to make your own luck.” Taking his words to heart, we talked our mother into bringing us to the mall three times a week. We left her by the sales racks at Sears or JC Penney’s while we moved methodically from Claire’s Boutique to Spencer Gifts to Merle Norman Cosmetics, asking for entry forms. Moira, in her yellow t-shirt with the shooting star appliqué, hair in messy red ringlets, tummy forward in an unselfconscious pooch. Me, already beginning to suck in my stomach, to sneak looks in every mirror, to constantly assess the breadth of my ribcage or the shape of my nose. If asked, a clerk would sometimes give us more than one entry, and after a while, many stores simply left the pads of forms by the register. “Let’s take the whole thing!” my sister said the first time we encountered an unattended tablet. Although two years younger and shy with adults, she was more fearless than I. “No,” I replied, “we can take two each, or three.” “How about four?” It was hard for me to break the rules, even those unstated, but it was also difficult for me to displease my little sister. Checking to make sure the shop attendant was helping 2 a woman in the dressing room, I slid my thumb under a larger portion of the stack and tore off a thick group of pages. Back at the center of the mall, we sat on a bench filling out handfuls of entries. Our dad had explained folding the papers in half would form a V-shape that would float to the top of the others. Considering this, we decided it would be even better to aim for distribution throughout. We folded some into quarters, others into tight, small stones intended to entice someone’s fingers if they grazed the bottom of the box; we folded triangles, rolled cigarette-sized scrolls, pleated paper accordions we hoped would lodge themselves at every level. Finally, we crumpled some into balls, though I worried this might be against the rules. ** It’s after five in the evening at the Familial Research Centre in Melbourne, Australia.