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I have cancer. Just found out for certain-sure today. Can’t say I’m terribly surprised, though. Not because of the surgeon (who told my mother and boyfriend in the waiting that it looked like a cancerous lymph node), but because of the Baron. Baron Samedi, Baron Saturday. I call him Baron, mostly ’cause I’m not sure if there is a difference between the names.

There is a small New Age store in town. First thing after I came back from the Maine Trip (beyond booking an appointment for the Lumps) was visit the little store. (It smells nice and I can ogle pretty rocks. Don’t judge me.) He was sitting there on the gemstone table- a palm-sized hematite skull with a nice heft. Then in Hot Topic, a strand of skulls and femurs for a necklace. At Spencer’s, a grinning dead man with a tophat, for a thumb ring. Laughing Death. Bow one second, flash you the next, and take your eldest daughter out on a magical evening before you can say tibia. I’m not the most psychically open of people, but even I can take a hint. Especially after we dug a grave in the backyard within a day of the skull finds. Like, full-sized hide-the-body-quick grave.

But what, you may ask as you skritch your heads, does the Baron have to do with knowing you have cancer? Couldn’t you have just been a pessimistic bitch?

Well, yes, that’s part of it. I am. I was. I’m actually figuring out what goes to whom right now. But I haven’t broke down crying yet because… its not the end of the world. It isn’t a horrendous form of malignant evil. Its Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Excellent recovery rates, no extra symptoms that stuff is going wrong. I’m young, and though I’m not in perfect shape by a long shot, I am ridiculously healthy for someone of my size. The news was never really news. I already, well… knew it.

Why cry at fate? The gods haven’t abandoned me. My dead are rooting for me in the corner. And the Baron is grinning at me. I don’t know if he’ll go when the threat of cancer goes. I don’t know if him being here is a sign of good luck or bad. But he’s there and I take great comfort in that fact. I think we have a similar sense of humor, and if I couldn’t laugh at myself right now I probably would be crying. The Lady will comfort me regardless if I live or die, and Manannan supports me as only He can, but its the Baron that makes me smile. Its the Baron that tickles my funny bone when I’m alone with bad thoughts. Manannan is tricksy sometimes, but He doesn’t *quite* get why I laugh at doujinshi dickgirls, for example. The Baron? Laughing His ass off. Sometimes its the only thing that gets through. He’s more human than Manannan, and a lot more human than the Lady. Stuff that doesn’t feel right with either of them fits perfect with the Baron.

And fuck, if the cancer wins and I die, there are worse beings to spend eternity with. Get jiggy with it, yo.

Don’t run away it’s only me
Don’t be afraid of what you can’t see
Don’t run away it’s only me . . .
—- Oingo Boingo, “Dead Man’s Party”