Kaity Kasper

Blog

Any Way You Slice It

“So, you feel better then?”

I want to slap her.

I’m at my gynecologist’s office – the regular, ordinary gynecologist for once – and in the pre-appointment “so how’ve you been” phase of the appointment, a member of her staff gets confirmation from me that I have not had anything new come up since my ovarian cancer diagnosis.  And that is her response.

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Ayurvedic Cleansing 101

I really love food.

A very dear friend jokes not infrequently about my diet when we first met.  It consisted of cheeseburgers several times a week.  Cheeseburgers were (probably still would be if it wasn't for the whole veganish thing) favorite. 

I also have  a ravenous sweet tooth.  And never meet a carb I didn't like. 

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Ayurveda, body imageKaity Kasper
So What Is A Mystic Anyway?

I am still super adverse to labels these days.  I have a feeling this might be a permanent change in status.  But I’ve thought that before about many things and have been proven wrong, so who really knows.

In the interest of sharing my work with y’all, it seems like it might be important to get on the same page about a few things.  So in the coming weeks we’re going to spend some times making sure that we all have the same baseline understanding about what I mean when I use certain words.

Today, lets talk about what I mean when I talk about being a mystic. 

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Thirty-Six Hours

“Jesus said ‘I am the way, the truth and the light, no man cometh unto the father but my me’ Gospel of John” [sic]

I knew it was coming, but I still did a tiny double take when John 14:6 popped up as an unrelated comment on an Instagram post of mine from a few weeks back.  That post was of a three card Goddess pull I had made – no God or divinity related hashtags, no reference to Christ or Christianity.  I still can’t figure out why this was the place the comments began.  It was an interesting choice.  Maybe it was selected because in some ways it offered one of those extra layers of anonymity that the Internet allows. 

But I got the point. 

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The Next Chapter

“I don’t want to turn into the cancer girl again,” I sigh as I flop onto his couch.  “But I feel it happening.”

I was the cancer girl once.  Known around RVA largely due to my willingness to chat with folks about what it means to be 23 and be kicked in the gut by a surprise diagnosis.  It didn’t happen to me, I took the role on willingly, but over time it consumed me.  If you ask me now, applying that particular label to my forehead is in no small part responsible for the follow-up diagnosis I would receive 14 years later.

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What Would Jesus Do?

“What do you need to feel ready?” she asked me. 

It was almost exactly a year before the cancer diagnosis I didn’t yet know was looming so close.  In the Skype window reflecting my image I could see row after row of purple bordered diplomas and certifications behind me.  A law degree and a master’s degree.  Admissions to the bars of four states.  Papers conferring on me the readiness required to carry out certain tasks.

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Its Been One Year

“Ugh,” I grumble as I lean closer to the mirror.  “I have got to do something about these eyebrows.”

I inherited all the Lebanese traits from my father’s side of the family.  The good ones – like a thick, dark head of hair – and the not so good ones – like thick, dark eyebrows.

It’s as if an invisible hand slaps me straight across the cheekbones.  I have eyebrows.  Eyebrows so thick, dark, and unruly that they need to be maintained yet again.

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Losing My Religion

“Describe your past and current relationship with Christianity.”

The interviewer is pulling out the big guns straight from the gate, and it takes me several days to figure out how to even begin to respond to her in less than a short memoir, never mind the 100 word limit she has prescribed.  It’s a difficult question, but a good one.  Largely because it’s a question I have been turning over in my own mind for the last handful of months.

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The State Of Affairs v.12

One year ago, I was hovering in the space just before my very last chemotherapy treatment.  I had no idea what laid beyond that sixth round – and if you had told me there is a pretty solid chance I: (a) wouldn’t have believed you and (b) would have been completely incapable of handling the news.  I was already playing around with the idea that I might not do the recommended maintenance chemotherapy – and had made up my mind that I certainly wouldn’t do the entire prescribed year.  But I don’t think I was in a place yet where I could have gotten my mind around the idea of saying no to additional treatment in the face of an “incurable” diagnosis.

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