Monday, May 09, 2005

Shall We Try This Again...?

Blogroll Me!

Thank you for those who posted "additions" to the excerpt taken from a published book. Here is another excerpt. But this time, don't add to it -- except for the first person who starts this off. Check the comments section and continue the story from the preceeding person's comment/addition.

Here is the excerpt:

I stop short in the doorway to my cube. A white envelope is propped on my keyboard. My name is scrawled on it in black Sharpie. My hands are shaking as I tear the envelope open.

4 comments:

Air Time said...

I stop short in the doorway to my cube. A white envelope is propped on my keyboard. My name is scrawled on it in black Sharpie. My hands are shaking as I tear the envelope open.

The Parkinson's is out of control again. The meds, which had been working so well, reducing the shake to a mere tremor, were losing the fight.

I watched my hands, tears filling my eyes. Early-onset Parkinsons, the doctor had told. Like Michael J Fox, I replied.

I can't even read the note through the tears. I know it is a birthday card from my well wishing co-workers. I try to get control of my shaking hands. I know it is just minutes before they will waltz into my cube with a well-meaning birthday cake and words of happy birthday on their lips.

tuesdaywishes said...

With elaborate nonchalance, I turn on the computer, check my messages, try to pretend it's an ordinary day. When the gang does crowd in with cake, candles and a silly hat for me, I remember to stuff my hands in my pockets while they do the singing thing. But how to avoid cutting the cake?
"Guys, this is soo sweet of you! But We're going out tonight and I want to save my calories...well, just a taste..." I pick up a frosting rose with a plastic fork. "Take the rest to the coffee room...quick, before I eat it all!" I press the volume button on the phone in my pocket, causing it to ring. "Sorry..." I pick it up as my cube becomes mine again.

Chaim said...

id love to partake, but have to work today ... ill catch ya round next time

torontopearl said...

Damn, these hands, I think, once the well-meaning folks leave. How long can I go on hiding the tremors? The few times people have noticed and asked me about the shaking, I've told them I've recently been diagnosed as hypoglycemic, and if I don't eat at the right time, my hands start to shake.

I used to play piano so beautifully, I used to type so quickly, I used to knit so beautifully. But the Parkinson's has taken care of those for me!

How did Michael J. Fox feel with the diagnosis? Did he feel, as I do, that life was downhill for him?

Snap out of it, I berate myself. This isn't the time to feel sorry for yourself. Today is your birthday, and you're going to smile, damn it! You're going to celebrate tonight and show everyone that at thirty you're sitting on top of the world.

A meek voice drew my attention to the cubby doorway. It was the department's administrative assistant Trina.

"Um, Cassandra...? Someone left these flowers for you at reception," she said in a near whisper. Trina then held out a vase filled with the loveliest arrangement of spring flowers I'd ever seen.

"Is there a card with it, Trina?"

"Yes, here it is...."