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Pagans, predating Christianity, would place a coin in the mouths of the deceased as a toll for the underworld. Nineteenth century mediums displayed an emesis of cloth from various orifices, known as ectoplasm—the physical manifestation of the soul. Many mediums used methods of swallowing and regurgitating cheesecloth, textile products smoothed with potato starch and in other cases the ectoplasm was made from paper, cloth and egg white or butter muslin.
She is founder and director of Manhattan Arts International www. Kaylin is my step-daughter. We were at her opening last weekend.
Lovely show. Small world that you featured this, Renee. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for this article. I have read it several times over now. Kaylin is my niece. I am so proud of her, as is the entire family. Some cancers just can't take a hint. You can poison with chemo cocktails, butcher with surgery, burn with radiation, and they still won't leave you alone.
You can't get a restraining order against a tumor, I've been told. My cancer can't get enough of me. My cancer keeps coming back. And so I've decided to accept my illness in order to move on with my life -- instead of cure or die, I've chosen truce. I'll keep my life -- and cancer can have supervised visitation rights.
The problem is, once you make the decision to become 'frenemies' with your illness, you accept being defined by it, and cancer has a nasty reputation. If one were to Google my name, cancer comes up before fashion design, the other thing that used to define and consume my life. I am no longer Kaylin the fashion designer, I am Kaylin with cancer. I'm proud to identify as a survivor and advocate, so why do I still feel ashamed to have cancer?
There is a slick inch scar snaking across my rib cage that looks as though a samurai sword slashed through me -- a battle wound, to be sure, but not from Ichi the Killer -- this scar is from cancer. Slow, boring, ugly cancer. The most uncool serial killer ever. I am always tempted to embellish my cancer stories to match the level of emotional turmoil they elicited.
I was shanked in prison! I had chest tubes put in to drain excess fluid from my lungs before thoracic surgery. Getting shanked just sounds sexier. My thyroidectomy in left me with another gruesome scar I like to call the "Colombian necktie" that looked bizarrely as though my neck was smiling. I feel like a sick elephant sometimes. My cancer keeps coming back.
If one were to Google my name, cancer comes up before fashion design, the other thing that used to define and consume my life. I am no longer Kaylin the fashion designer, I am Kaylin with cancer. The crew followed me for more than a year, as I moved from San Francisco to NYC to pursue my career and a fresh start the season premieres tonight, March 4.
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