Early this morning, I got up, made some coffee and sat down to knit and listen to myself on the radio. Well, I can’t make the radio here pick up any FM, so I listened to the radio on the internet, and sat here and knit. Me and the deer.


I told everyone to listen at 7:30, but it turns out that the news is on at 7:30, so I got everyone up 5 minutes earlier than they needed to, which made me feel really guilty, since it’s the weekend and everything. I sat here listening to the news and suddenly realized that my interview was going to follow an item about how the Ontario Government is increasing colorectal cancer testing. In my anxiety ridden state, I started to wonder about how that was going to influence how people thought of me, or knitting. The closer it got to my interview time the more all I could think was “Stop saying rectum! Stop talking about rectums!” I felt awful, and then they said that colorectal cancer is the 2nd leading sort of cancer in Ontario and then I felt much worse because I suddenly realized that all this rectum-colonoscopy talk was clearly life and death and it obviously needs to be mentioned, and probably people are dying because lots of people, not just me, sit around thinking “Stop talking about rectums!” and then, well. It’s not good.

Then I started to worry that after this important item about this important thing, that I was going to sound flip and silly. I began to wonder if people would think I was callous, rambling on and on about knitting when there were people dying. I tried to remember if I’d mentioned colorectal screening. I was pretty sure I hadn’t, although I did think I’d said “arse”. That might help. I cursed. Why hadn’t anyone told me on Thursday morning that there was going to be this news item (I had, in my aforementioned anxiety, forgotten the nature- or even the definition of “news”) I could have at least said something about rectums. I could have suggested knitting to cope with the stress of an impending colonoscopy. Now here I was, going to be all flip and giggly about stupid things.

Giggly? Oh man. I had probably laughed too much, and my laugh is awful. I sound like a horse and I laugh at my own jokes. For crying out loud, this is why I’m a writer. Nobody can hear me laugh. This was going to be disastrous. At least it’s not the newspaper, I thought to myself as my world descended a notch deeper on the freakout scale. At least I can’t be misquoted on the radio. I began to plan how long I could stay here in the woods. Until the outrage over my giggly cancer mocking interview died down at least. Until the publicist stopped hunting me like a wild dog in a sheep pen, until the children could go back to school. I wondered how long it would be before anyone at the CBC would speak to me again. £¢∞§!!! I’d probably blown any chance I ever had of charming Rick Mercer at a party. Not that we go to the same parties, but we might have, if I hadn’t of screwed up the entire interview and laughed in the face of COLORECTAL CANCER. What kind of a person am I! What was I thinking! I can’t go on the radio, I can barely get up a road with sled of red wine. Does red wine cause colorectal cancer. Damn. Should I get one one of the screening tests? Can you knit during a colonoscopy? Was there any point in saving myself now that I had offended all of Canada and made everyone hate me, humiliated my children and ended my career with one interview on the CBC?

I started to feel sort of sweaty, and I knit and knit, faster and faster and suddenly they had stopped talking about rectums, and for a second, I thought maybe they would cancel it themselves. That maybe Karen Gordon was sitting in the studio right that minute, listening to the cancer thing and thinking “Holy crap. I can’t put this on now” and then before I could call her and say “Don’t do it, don’t air that interview. I’ve had a moment of remarkable clarity and I can see now that I’m an insensitive raving lunatic.” It was on.

I think it was ok…although I did laugh too much, but I think not so much that I can’t go home. I don’t think I offended any major groups, but I suppose I’ll have to wait to see if the email starts. I have to tell you though, that I’ve totally remembered why I don’t listen to myself on the radio. Raving lunatic. Check.