Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer #56. "Iris."

Most every adult who has raised kids will smile at the spike in their knowledge of music that occurs when the kids are teenagers.  I grew up listening to sixties- and early seventies music—Doors, Beatles, Rolling Stones, Motown. Then my interest in what was popular fell off. But I know nineties music because that was when my children started listening to the top groups of the era. Their music played in the house, in the car, and I heard it all the time. So: Blues Traveler, The Goo-Goo Dolls, Smash Mouth—a whole range of artists from this era—are quite familiar to me.

One of the groups from that time that especially impressed me was the Goo-Goo Dolls. I think Dizzy Up the Girl is one of the best pop albums I've ever heard. And, as often happens, one of the songs that group did inspired a story—and a story about something I don't write a lot about. It is the tale of young woman who is struggling with cancer and has just finished chemotherapy. I know there are journals dedicated to this type of medical story, but I had not explored the genre much. But the song "Iris," which I especially liked, and, with millions of other people, loved the line "you bleed just to know you're alive," got me thinking of how that particular song might relate to someone's life. The story "Iris" rose from my musings

Robin Bennett has just finished a punishing round of chemotherapy. The results have been promising: the tumor is gone; she is cancer-free. But she has lost all her hair, lost weight, and is only now recovering her strength. Further, she has had to take a hiatus from her job. Her fiancé has dumped her after learning of her affliction. And the severity of her treatments forced he to move out of her apartment and in with her parents, who are vastly overprotective (she is their youngest child, their only daughter, and her brother is away working in the Middle East). Now that she has begun to feel better she chafes at their elaborate caution, though she knows it arises out of love for her as their child.

Sinead O'Conner

While looking for a CD with song "Iris" on it (she likes the song and relates to the line I quoted earlier), the scarf she wears to conceal her bald head, falls off. A young man, John, picks up for her. She is embarrassed and says, mostly to keep from bursting into tears, "Look pretty weird, don't I?" To her surprise, he says she looks cute and reminds him of Sinead O'Conner. They chat. He is friendly and tells her he and his friends—guys and girls—get together at a bar every Saturday night for drinks. Would she like to come? She says she might like it and he goes her way. Her father, who sees him depart, gruffly asks who that was and why she was speaking with him. Robin's frustration builds.

Despite her parents objections that she is too weak to go out, should not be drinking, and should not meet with a man she did not know, Robin goes anyway. The meeting is a success. She and John begin dating and enter an intimate relationship. She begins working at her old job as a loan agent in a bank. She feels stronger. She is optimistic for the first time in months. She moves back into her old apartment and sees a future—she had doubted she even had a future at times—beginning to take shape and holding some hope. Above all, she is no longer lonely.

But her father is suspicious. When very sick, she provided him with a key to her apartment, and he has refused to give this up. He goes there when she is away at work and find evidence (two sets of breakfast utensils in the drainer, a pair of condom wrappers and tissue-cloaked used condoms in the trash). He decides he will go after John and heads to his place of work. Robin happens to be there to meet John for lunch, sees her father, and follows him, her anxiety building. This triggers what her parents had feared:  a seizure brought on by stress. She collapses and ends up in the hospital.

The medical emergency is not a bad one. Her father is there and realizes his behavior brought on the seized. He has met John in the waiting room, apologized to him, and found him a likeable young man. Father and daughter are reconciled. Her father discerns the error in how he has treated her. John takes her home, where he will join the family for supper. As they drive, Robin asks him to put a CD in and play "Iris" for her.

"Iris" appeared in a journal called In Stereo Press. I can't find the story or an archive. It was interesting that I submitted it to a couple of journals that published medical stories. One rejected it. One accepted it and then reneged on the acceptance. But it found a home.

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