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Have you ever been feeling low, down in the dumps, stuck in a rut, or just plain stressed out? We all fall on hard times, and we all struggle to get back to our equilibrium. For some, getting back to equilibrium can involve seeing a therapist. For others, it could be starting a new job or moving to a new place. For some of the more literary-minded or creative folks, getting better can begin with art.

There are many ways to incorporate art into spiritual healing and emotional growth, including drawing, painting, listening to music, or interpretive dance. These methods can be great for artistic people, but there are also creative and expressive ways to dig yourself out of a rut that doesn’t require any special artistic talents. One such method is writing therapy. All you need is a piece of paper, a pen, and the motivation to write.


Writing for me, has been a lifesaver.

It’s been a helluva last half year for me, man. First in March, My boss of 27 years betrayed my trust by trying to diminish my role in our office, forcing me to make the decision to end our long standing relationship. Although I never had any illusions about us being friends, I did expect more reciprocal loyalty from her. In an instant, I was suddenly, as Twinklebear (my Twin Flame partner) likes to kid me about, “a man of leisure.” This was the first time in 47 years, that I found myself unemployed.

Even though leaving the job was completely voluntary, and even though I have enough pension income so I don’t have to worry from that angle, the change in status was jarring—and disorienting. I went from 160 mph of problem-solving on the job (which I was exceedingly good at), to sitting in the proverbial beach chair with a beer (but without the little umbrella stickin’ outta the can—ha!) in my hand. But the cascading of changes in my life was only just beginning

In June, I had a mishap which caused me to injure my right leg. Over the course of a few weeks, the swelling in the leg went down, but I then developed an infection. This necessitated a brief overnight stay at the hospital, with three rounds of a very strong intravenous antibiotic. Just great, man!

This led me to the heartbreaking decision to give up my beloved motorcycle. Understand that I had been a dedicated biker for a half a century, and to a biker, his Harley is almost life itself. But I took a good hard look at my physical limitations, and decided that it was time. I could no longer continue as a biker. Hey doanworrybowdit, we’re just gettin’ warmed up here, folks! There was more to come!

In early August, an unplanned visit to the emergency room started a sequence of events spanning the following five weeks, starting with the unwelcome news that I had somehow suffered a left hip fracture. The doctors surrounded me in admirable wonder, saying things like….

“Mr. Wong, how the hell have you been walking around on this? It looks like you’ve been walking around on a fractured hip for weeks. You must have a high tolerance for pain.”

Yes, I do have a high tolerance for pain, having learned this particular talent from decades of martial arts practice and training, a period of time when I suffered numerous broken bones, all healed on their own without medical treatment. Ha! Not this time, man!

This time, I could not dodge the doctors. I needed a total left hip replacement! Additionally, I required a pace maker, as my heart rate was as slow as 38 beats per minute, which is okay for Olympic athletes—but I’m not an Olympic athlete.

To make a long story only slightly shorter, this effectively rendered me house-bound for the last three and half months. I am recovering now, and am getting used to my new hip, a process that for most, takes six months or more.

Part of the trick is to get the new joint to feel natural, and for the gait to assume a normal motion. Workin’ on it, man. The other part of the trick is to regain one’s previous stength of not only the hip, but also one’s general conditioning which has suffered from sitting around on one’s ass while healing was taking place. Godaaaaaa!

So now you know why I feel frustrated.

This is where my writing comes in. It has been a true lifesaver, in this time of frustration and impatience to get back to full steam again. Writing for me has always been therapeutic, in all the stages of my life. However, with the diminution of things in my life that have become less important that I used to care about and passionately write about, writing has become especially important as coping mechanism.

I will state the obvious: at this time when I have been house-bound in my recovery, writing is still something I can do without restriction. The martial arts practice will have to wait until I’m better, although I can lift weights and work on my gait. Martial arts techniques when done correctly, produce such violent torquing motions, that deleterious effects on the prosthetic hip could ensue. You break it, you buy it man!

Motorcycles, I have concluded are history for me. That ship has sailed without me as I laid about, leisurely healing from my surgery. Bye bye, USS Harley!

But writing I can do.

So, what to write about? Writing about the martial arts has waned, ever since I closed my school in the mid 1990s. The impetus was just not there to write about it after I closed my school, because my teaching had stopped. Before I closed my school, I put my heart into “bringing up” my students 100%, and I also was all in on writing about teaching, and my martial arts philosophy.

How about writing about the biker subculture, something I’ve done for the past 28 years? I’m afraid not. I no longer felt that I was entitled to do so, since I no longer ride a Harley. It would feel phony to me to write about it because I no longer participate. I don’t feel comfortable writing about the biker culture because technically, I am no longer a biker. A biker must have a bike to be a “biker.”.

The only subject I want to write about, as it is done with great passion, is writing about my Twin Flame, “Twinklebear.” Writing about her and our Twin Flame journey suffuses my world with meaning, as it is reflective of “us.” Each word, every sentence is my way of saying “I love you” to her. When I prepare to wrote a memoir about us, my heart quickens, and my mind races. My soul gets poured into each memoir, my love and need for her a flowing golden stream of spiritual honey.

The last six months have been surreal for me. But the truth is that the last three years have been surreal. How could I have found a love so much more dynamic, so much more needed than any I have known before? How is it that Twinklebear and I fit together like a complicated jigsaw puzzle, so perfectly.

How is it that such perfection in compatibility, has turned our lives so thoroughly upside down, sideways and inside out? Godaaaa, what a woman Twinklebear is! Anything or anybody valued in life, is worthy fighting for. And I continue to fight for my Twinklebear, I am the Ultimate Alpha Male. Dig it!

So, is writing this memoir cathartic for me? Hey man, I feel better already! Hey, the Sierra Nevada Pale Ales don’t hurt. But seriously, writing this is therapy for me, as it is something I can do full bore, throttle all the way to the stop man, at 160 miles per hour. Ha! Hey Twinklebear, put that rolling pin down! “DONK” Owwwww!


I love you, Twinklebear
Forever and a day
Twin Flames, podmates always
Bear Pact Forever
12 12 12 in every way


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Twinklebear and I are like the “A” and “B” ingredients of epoxy glue.



“Ahh you…. So sweet. Thank you. What wonderful things to say about me. (Of course all true!) Ha!….Ok, so this article / memoir, is romantic. I will give you that one…”

Women are such romantics, and Twinklebear is such a womanly woman. I love that about her. She has a heart as big as the great outdoors, and as pure as unconditional love. A love that I am so lucky to be the recipient of.

In our early days of intimacy, Twinklebear (my Twin Flame, we are reincarnated from previous lives together) would say, “We have bonded!” We made cute little jokes and uttered circumspect innuendos related to epoxy glue and bonding. Epoxy glue as you probably know, is a super strong bonding agent that requires the mixing of two separate agents, identified as “A” and “B.”

We reveled in romantic little word games, celebrating the fact that WE FOUND EACH OTHER! We marveled at how in love we were, and how that in love feeling surpassed anything either of us had felt before.

Even though this memoir takes a clean analytical look at how Twinklebear and I bonded, I hope that she will find this as pleasing as the previous memoir. I must confess that I really write these memoirs for Her Eyes, even though they are couched in the format of having been written for impartial “readers.” Her emotions, well-being and happiness are paramount to me. It is my beloved Twinklebear, who I wish to dazzle with my wordsmithing. Sometimes, I actually succeed!

Pleasing my Baby, making her happy, is always at the top of my “to do” list. She (“you”, my Twinks, since I principally write this to you) mean everything to me.

But getting back to ingredients “A” and “B” of epoxy glue. Apart they are, inert entities. But put them together, and an intense chemical reaction takes place. An instant flash point then happens. The volatile mixture then heats up suddenly and violently and then an irreversible bonding takes place. Once the two are mixed together, they are interlocked together like the unseen atoms of a singular entity—forever. Once bonded, there is no possible separation of “A” and “B.”

This was so like Twinklebear and I when we met (reunited rather, remember that we are reincarnated) three years ago. Once mixed together, we became this combustible conglomeration—that created so much emotional, sensual and spiritual heat—that we bonded immediately like epoxy glue.

Like with epoxy glue, our mixture hardens as time passes. With us as ingredients “A” and “B”—like epoxy glue, the combination becomes more cohesive with every passing hour and day. That’s Twinklebear and I. We have been bonded by the eternal Twin Flame Glue. I will love you Baby, always!


I love you, Twinklbear
Forever and a day
Twin Flames, podmates always
Bear Pact Forever!
12 12 12 in every way


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MY TWINKLEBEAR: I love her in so many ways.

Don’t expect this to be a scholarly paean to the profundity of the Twin Flame journey. My intention in this memoir, is to elucidate in a lighthearted manner, a few of the countless ways that I love my Twinklebear. Truth to tell, a good third of these cannot be mentioned in a “family” article. But that is a chance I will have to take. I may slip, especially after the fourth Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. Ha!

Since this is supposed to be a lighthearted (but not bawdy, God no!) honest revealing of the many ways I love her, and not an intentional chronicle of my mortal physical attraction (God forbid! Let’s stay lighthearted!) to my Twinklebear, allow me to briefly repeat what she says when I allude to her obvious carnal charms….

“Hey, where’s the romance?

DOH! Ha! Lest you think that I’m a sexist mysogynsit pig, lemme clue ya in that she is joking (God! I hope so! Ha!) when she says that, or I say to her, “Hey! I’m just a fun toy to you!” It is all part and parcel of our extremely open, exceedingly engaging humorous reparteee. Is it any surprise that our repartee parodies conventional societal behavior. So funny!

Just to be serious for a moment in the face of all of this lighthearted revelation, Twinklebear is the only person in the world I can be totally relaxed and chilled with. It seems moreso, as time goes on. Amazing but true. We are like a fine wine, improving with age. Hey Twinks–watch it! Ha! Bad girl!

The difference is, that in our uniquely close interaction, the usual political correctness gets bypassed—going straight to a fast expressway to beautiful and unvarnished honesty. No roadblocks here, baby! In our humor and repartee, we understand exactly where the other is coming from–which is always loving and never derogatory.

I accept her unadulterated femaleness without reservation, and she accepts my pure maleness without apology and politically correct judgement.

That is what being this close can do.

Uh oh, I’m doing what I promised not to do in this memoir—get too pithy. Onward to more lighthearted ways that I love my Twinklebear!

I love looking at Twinklebear in profile. She is so beautiful, like a classic statue of a Greek Goddess. There is no doubt in my mind, that she is the most beautiful woman in the world. I become mesmerized, just gazing at her from the side when she doesn’t know I’m looking. What a beautiful woman she is.

I love the way Twinklebear tilts her head to the side, and twirls her hair coquettishly when we talk. These are all flirtatious “tells” that the woman is in attracted, and perhaps, ahem, aroused. She is so feminine. My God! So womanly!

I love her lyrical voice and British accent. Sorry to get profound for a moment, but I know and have known her voice from our past lives together. I could pick out her voice in a room full of people. She is my Twin Flame, my Eternal Wife! Her melodious voice soothes me, makes me feel loved. Her voice also arouses me (“WINK”).

I love her sharp wit. The ribbing, the unabashed sensual teasing without inhibition, we get each other. We are the Queen and King of Sarcasm. We love it!

Her hands. Oh my God, if there are bodily components that exude femininity, it is her hands. The way they delicately flow and move. It is hard to describe, but Twinklebear’s hands are like the movements of butterflies—light, airy and so womanly.

I love the way that she is uninhibited with me regarding everything and I love the way we are that way we are with each other. We talk about everything from “A” to “Z” without a second thought. Sometimes it seems so effortless, that we stop and marvel at it for its openness.

I love the way her smile reaches across her entire face when she sees me, and it makes her glow! Her entire face smiles, and God—it makes me fall in love with her all over again every time she smiles at me.

I love the way that she makes me smile and laugh. unless it it is with her, I am a rather dour person, not quick to smile or laugh. She is is the only person in the world that can do this to me.

I love the way that her personality does not match her external appearance. I always good-naturedly kid her about her being a “BBB” (I’ll leave that to your imagination), but she has the type of very good looks that no doubt, stereotyped her to a degree. In truth, she is a very modest person inwardly. I love her for that.

Lastly, since I can’t get too explicit, I love Twinklebear’s freckles, that dot her fair skin like so many repositories of healthy womanliness. I could go on and on….


I love you, Twinklebear
Forever and a day
Twin Flames, podmates always
Bear Pact Forever!
12 12 12 in every way


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Until total reunion with Twinklebear, I am nothing.



“The journey of Twin Flames. This is not always straightforward or even easy. In fact it can be damn right tough, almost unbearable to the point of distraction.”


I am nothing without my Twinklebear.

It seems like my whole life, particularly my search for meaning, was the preparation for this moment. The moment when I finally realized, what real “meaning” consists of. The true meaning of my life and how it has transpired with respect to the focusing on and funneling down to my Twin Flame Twinklebear—has finally hit me.

To be succinct about it, my writing in the past, has prepared me for the moment when I realized the true role of putting words to paper has culminated in the writing itself, to be more than the mere chronicling of events.

My writing has become an instrument of coping in my Twin Flame journey with my beloved eternal wife, Twinklebear.

That is not a grandiose assessment of an ego-inflated writer, but simply a statement of fact. It was on December 10, 2016 when I wrote my first memoir about our Twin Flame journey, “Memoir: Twinklebear” I wrote this inaugural memoir in answer to a plaintive plea that Twinklebear made to me:

“Sookybear, I love your writing, but when are you going to write something about us?”

Up to that point, I had been a print and internet writer about the martial arts and the biker subculture, two areas of life that were of great meaning to me. Little did I know that my extensive experience in writing about those things, was a mere “warm up” to the role of writing about our Twin Flame journey—and a way of being close to Twinklebear when apart.

Writing these memoirs has become a spiritual conduit to Twinklebear herself.

What Twinklebear wrote regarding our Twin Flame love being “almost unbearable to the point of distraction,” is oh so true. Twinklebear and I have not achieved total reunion as a couple due to circumstances, and this drives us crazy!

Like many Twin Flame partners, we have been reincarnated and unceremoniously dropped onto Earth and respective lives and places, which had little to do with each others’ lives and environments. It was only due to fate, destiny and serendipity, that we were able to find each other again three years ago.

The struggle to reconcile our fate together, with the “reality” of our lives before our finding each other again, has been epic. This is the crux of our frustration, that exists in what is an otherwise, wonderful beyond belief, exhilirating beyond normal expectation, joyous love that is the stuff of Hollywood movies and Hallmark ideals.

IF you follow our journey through the memoirs I’ve written about us since December 10, 2016 you will that the tenor of the memoirs has been oh so joyous, just celebratory about our great love and need for each other. Yet as time goes on, it is frustrating to not be in total reunion with my Baby!

Twinklebear and I spend inordinate amounts if time together. It is not unusual for us to talk for four hours straight, schedules permitting. Therein lies the rub! Schedules.

There are those spaces of time every day, when I cannot be with my Great Love, and it is these spans of time when I miss her so terribly. This is where my writing comes into play.

I have realized that I need my writing about us, to make me feel closer to Twinklebear when our schedules have us apart. The “missing” of my baby is so horrible, that writing these memoirs lets me “tap into” my very real Twin Flame connection with her.

It is as if my “signal” with her gets weaker when she is working for example and can’t be with me. Or when she is out with friends. By writing about us, I can “strengthen” my signal with her, and it comforts me. I feel her closer to me in these daily instances, when she cannot be talking to me.

My sweet Twinklebear, I am nothing when we are not together. I have also realized that it is you who gives the rest of my life and existence any meaning. You are everything to me. I always miss you terribly, and moreso as ime goes on.


I love you, Twinklebear
Forever and a day
Twin flames, podmates always
Bear Pact Forever!
12 12 12 in every way


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Twinklebear’s Mum’s and my favorite candy bar!


SEPTEMBER 19, 2017

The Original Mars Bar Is Back!

It’s the same recipe as the 1932 original.

The Mars Bar still has a following around the world, but here in the U.S. we’ve been relegated to eating Twix and Snickers as the milk-chocolate bar was stripped from store shelves in 2002.

The Mars Bar was created in 1932 by Forrest Mars, the son of Frank Mars, in Slough, U.K. The original packaging featured a black wrapper with red gold-edged lettering. The packaging for the new (original) Mars Bar is slightly modernized, with a gold and white wrapper, complete with a picture of the chocolate you’ll find inside.

“The Mars Bar is a favorite among chocolate lovers everywhere,” Oren Young, general manager of Ethel M Chocolates, said in a written statement. “That’s why we wanted to bring back this nostalgic treat in its original form, by using the unique, hand-crafted touch that only Ethel M can offer.”



TWINKLEBEAR: “When I was a kid, my Mum sent my Dad to the shop down the street to get her favorite candy bars for her, Mars Bars.”

ME: “Oh my God! I just remembered! When I was a kid, my favorite candy bar was the Mars Bar!”

TWINKLEBEAR: “Wow! I’m telling you my Sookybear, Mum sent you to me!”


The Mars Bar is a venerated and iconic candy bar, both in the US and In England. Twinlklebear is my Twin Flame partner, we having been a single soul at the dawn of time, and split by God into Twin Flames at that time—predestined to reincarnate and reunite over and over again. Twinklebear’s Mum “D” passed a few years ago, and as you can see, “D” and I had something in common.

The Mars Bar was our favorite candy bar.

This might seem to be a small thing to you, but believe me, this is merely the most infinitesimal. proverbial “tip of the ice berg” with respect to the deep soul connection I have with “D.” The Mars Bar connection is but a small thing, but if you go back and read previous memoirs, you will see deep spiritual and paranormal connections not only between “D.” and me, but also between Twinklebear and my mother.

One very easy example to cite, is a portion of a recurrent dream that Twinklebear has had about me since the age of 14. In a previous memoir entitled “Memoir: Anniversary Recollections”—a repetitive dream about how I saved Twinklebear’s life in a past life—I write about how during a conversation we had two months ago, Twinklebear suddenly remembered a portion of that recurrent dream that my mother played a role in.

In that recollection (click on to read “Memoir: Anniversary Recollections” to understand), Twinklebear was able to describe the shop my parents had (which was on the ground floor of the building I grew up in. The second floor apartment is where we lived and we rented out the top floor apartment), as well as the long street facing our house—when I had never divulged these specific details to Twinklebear. How remarkable!

In “Memoir: Anniversary Recollections”—the recurrent dream that Twinklbear has had about me since the age of 14 about how I rescued her from abductors in a past life, probably in 13th century Asia, is outlined. Significantly, this recurrent dream that she’s had at least twice a year every year, ceased when we met in 2015.

What spurred the details about my mother having been in that recurrent dream, was a 1983 photograph of the building I grew up in which Twinklebear saw only two months ago (see photo), a photo which included my parents’ shop on the ground floor. These latent memories of shocking events in the dream surfaced for Twinklebear, after she saw the photo.

The picture that sparked Twinklebear’s memory of my mother in the dream

Seeing this 1983 photograph two months ago produced that “Oh my God moment,” when Twinklebear suddenly remembered details of my childhood home that appeared in her recurrent dream she’s had since childhood—details which she could not have known.

If you go back and re-read “Memoir: Anniversary Recollections”—and read about how my mother also saved Twinkkebear from her abductors in the same dream that I rescued her—you will be mind boggled. In her dream, my mother saved Twinklebear by hiding her in my parents’ shop.

Reading these details and realizing the implications of Twinkle’s knowing the logistical details of my parents’ shop, will make your hair stand on end! How remarkable, that I and my mother, save her from abductors in a dream that Twinklebear has had repeatedly since her teenage years? Wow!

This might prejudice you into thinking that 99% of Twinklebear’s and my conversations consist of Amazing Twin Flame Phenomena. This could not be further from the truth. Most of our talk is of the intensely personal kind, as well as talk covering anything and everything, mundane and consequential. We are as close as two souls on the planet can be, without inhibition or barriers.

However, even we have to take a step back when an amazing hyper-spiritual phenomenon such as my Mom being in Twinklebear’s recurrent dream of me, or my deep connections with her Mum comes up. My spiritual connections with “D”—candy bars notwithstanding—are no less dramatic or significant.

Twinklebear’s mother (left) with Twinks’ Nan.

I have such a deep connection with “D.” Even though she passed on a few years ago, I have such an affinity with her. I have written in previous memoirs about how I talk to her, and I feel her presence when I talk to “D.”

Typically, I feel this “deep pink warmth” flood my head, neck and shoulders–which inevitably, gives me goose bumps. That is how I know “D” is with me. It is an autonomic response as reliable as any instinctual indicator of the presence of pure good or pure evil. “D” is pure good.

This makes my mind turn toward what I am to say to “D” and it is is always how much I love Twinklebear, and how Twinks is “our” baby, but in different ways. At the end of each conversation with “D” I always say….

“Don’t worry ‘D.’ I will always love, protect and take care of her.”

Sol you see, it is not only because of the same candy bar that “D” and I like, that makes Twinklebear say that “D”—“has sent me” to Twinklebear as a guardian angel. “D” has sent me because we love Twinklebear so much.


I love you, Twinklebear
Forever and a day
Twin flames, podmates always
Bear Pact Forever!
12 12 12 in every way



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Red, white and blue!


“Pssst…hey you….

Yeah, you!

Do me a favor….I’m afraid to turn around.

Is there a woman behind me holding a rolling pin…and does she have a British accent?

Yeah, a beautiful busty blonde….yeah, that’s her.

Is that her whispering in my direction, ‘No more motorcycles for you, me foine boyo?’

It is?

Oh crap….”



Twinklbear is my Twin Flame love, the one who shared the same single soul with me, before God separated us at the dawn of time. That is the definition of Twin Flames, a couple predestined from the beginning of time to reunite again and again. I love my Twinklebear so very much, too much—reflecting how we have shared past lives as a recurrently reincarnated husband and wife team.

We’ve known each other so well, since the first day that we met in 2015. You should know that Twinklebear is British and I am American—so our reunion and pairing, is so fascinating from differing cultural points of view. But as it turns out, not that different. Brits and Yanks share many cultural commonalities. If only I could cure her of that funny accent. Ha! One trait we do share is a caustic and sharp sense of humor. Many don’t “get” our humor and may think us odd.


One aspect of Twinklebear that I love so much, is her keen intelligence. She is one smart woman, I’m-a-tellin’-you! As long as she admits that I’m even smarter and that I’m always right, we’ll be fine. Ha!



Hey Twinklebear, holster that damn rolling pin down, will ya? You sexy thing. Heh. No, all kidding aside, Twinklebear has a rapier sharp wit, and is usually several steps ahead of people mentally in conversations–making her a bit of a mystery to some people.

Her keen intelligence also accounts for her caustic and sarcastic sense of humor, which perfectly matches mine. Our jousting bouts of caustic and sharp humor, amuses us both to no end. We often refer to our mutually enjoyable brand of humor “insult humor.” So funny!

On an even more serious note, I truly admire Twinklebear’s British patriotism. Her patriotism, reveals itself as having great pride in traditional British values, which closely parallels American traditions and values. I told her the other day….

“My Twinklebear, through you, I deeply feel my cultural ties to England, for so much of American traditions and values were spawned in Britain. I feel it so much through you, like a palpable, solid connection.”

And it’s true. America’s laws and cultural structure, is essentially a British one, but modified. Twinklebear strongly feels that England’s traditional values, are under attack by migrants of very culturally different (different than Brit culture) groups who enter her country, and rather than assimilate into and cherish the British culture–try to impose their foreign values on Brits. Hey, Twinks bleeds red, white and blue. The Union Jack is comprised of those colors, just like the American Flag!

Radical Islamists are the perfect example, who arrive in England expecting welfare and other free benefits—financial crutches that are not available to hardworking Brits. The same thing happens in the US. Radical Islamists arrive here, and in some cases, expect Americans to comply with Sharia Law. To me and Twinklebear, this is totally inappropriate and unacceptable.

Twinklebear’s passionate patriotism perfectly matches mine for America. That is just another example of how close we are, and how similar in important respects. These attributes of Twinklebear’s, are among the reasons I so admire and love her so much. She is my British Baby. Now, if she’ll only put that rolling pin away!


“Hey mistuh…

You wuz askin’ bowt day lady, right?

Da bootiful busty blonde?

Guess wut?

She’s behind you again….

And she’s winding up her arm wit da rolling pin….

Look out!”




I love you, Twinklebear
Forever and a day
Twin Flames, podmates always
Bear Pact Forever!
12 12 12 in every way



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Writers, and memoirists in particular, are suckers for confession. That is both my greatest strength and greatest weakness as a memoirist. Show me a blank piece of virtual paper on my laptop, and Bang! Zoom! Here I go man, I’m off to the races! But there is one big difference in this memoir. This is not about my twin flame relationship with my eternal wife Twinklebear.

This is all about me!

Waaaaaaa! I’m such a brat! Ha! Seriously speaking though, if what I’m about to reveal about myself (me! me! me!) helps readers who find themselves in similar circumstances as I’m about to divulge—more power to ya! When I was only 23 years old, one day my sister Dottie said to me….

“Hey Scott, what is that swelling on your neck?”

She pointed to an extremely subtle, almost imperceptible swelling on the right side of my neck. I wasn’t even aware of it, until she pointed it out. Even though it was a modest swelling, I could feel a difference between the way that side of my neck felt compared to the other side.

At the time, I was working as a custom print maker at a professional photo lab called Edstan Studios. Before Edstan Studios though, I worked as a medical photographer at the Pack Medical Foundation, whose specialty was cancer treatment. My boss, Dr. John Conley, was the most preeminent expert on head and neck cancers and surgeries for them, as it providentially turned out for me.

By this time, the Pack medical Foundation went bankrupt, so I went to see Doctor Conley at his private office. After my old boss examined me, he said, “Scott I’m going to admit you to the Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center for a biopsy and possible surgery.” Man, was I scared!

I was admitted into the hospital and a needle biopsy was done. The news was not good. I had cancer of the thyroid and I needed surgery to remove it. Luckily for me, my old boss was the most recognized surgeon performing this type of complex radical neck dissection surgery.

Apparently, the cancer had invaded my neck muscle, so a “radical neck dissection” was required to removed the tumor and the muscle that it invaded. As you can imagine, at the tender age of 23 and expecting nothing like this to happen to me, I had all of these predictable “why me” thoughts….

“Oh God, why me? Why now? I’m so young, how could this be happening to me? Am I going to die?”

The good news is, I had the surgery decades ago, and did not die. The bad news is, the experience left me something of a hypchondriac. Although it made me fearful of health scares in general, it specifically made me scared of incidental (and benign) lumps and bumps, for obvious reasons.

I believe that there are two types of hypochondracs. The first is the classsical type as stereotyped in jokes. This would be the hypchondriac who runs to the doctor at every scare. I am in the second category of hypochondriac, who will never go to doctors because I fear what will be found.

Because I fall into the “fraidy-cat-about-seeing-doctors” category, there have been innumerable instances over the years, of my having found bumps and lumps on my person—when I would not seek a medical opinion about these bumps and lumps. As a result of my reluctance to seek immediate medical care for said bumps and lumps, each time I entered several days of mental hell.

This “special hell” usually consisted of many days of mental anguish, where I spent every minute of every day wondering if the offending bump or lump would go away. This irrational exercise involved an obsessive check of the bump or lump every few minutes, “to see if was different.” It was a wonder that I was able to function at work, with all of this worrying!

“This is your brain on stress!”

I often compared this special hell to self-flagellation, which is just as illogical. There were times during these multi-day periods of “controlled panic” when I tried to allow my common sense to temper my fear–but it was futile. I believe that anyone who has had cancer, can relate.

For all readers who find themselves in similar situations, pleased realize that we all have skin and muscle swelling due to irritation, allergy and trauma. This happens. But please know that I understand the special kind of panic you temporarily feel, because of your history that is similar to mine with respect to cancer—about these bumps and lumps.

I completely understand.


I love you, Twinklbear
Forever and a day
Twin flames, podmates always
Bear Pact Forever
12 12 12 in every way