I Can’t Stop The Music

White Trash in a Mink Coat/Blog     By: Patty Collins-King

I Can’t Stop The Music       June 13, 2017

Patty Collins-King

I am going to tell you a story. It’s about can-sur (remember I won’t spell it and give it merit) and a horrific death. It’s about grieving and healing and not healing. It’s about finding new strength, happiness and a new normal—which is anything but! Writing about can-sur and a horrific death is hard, but doable. I think I can do it because I am older now! And I have lived through both and I have died through both. So while this is my story to tell, I just bet that other people have lived through worse—and I’m sorry—but we need to talk about it.

White Trash in a Mink Coat is a story that I could not put into chapters. A chapter is a main division of a book and division is the action of separating things into parts. Since I feel that this story cannot be separated into parts on many occasions, let’s call each “chapter” a wing! I love it!!! Let’s call each “chapter” a wing because we know that we can soar with wings or that they can be broken!

I still want to dedicate this blog though, like a book…For my precious momma, who even in death always came to me when I called out her name and wanted to live. But—who kept silent when I called out her name and wanted to die. I’m glad I always, always said I love you momma. And kissed her, I always kissed her. That’s important!          

1st Wing~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I realize I started writing because I so enjoyed watching other people and thinking about their situations, not judging, just observing. Daddy always said I could– I thought he said maulk– but I think it’s amok anyone, but I didn’t do it for meanness, I did it just because I was so darn good at it. The imagination is a gift from God and a curse. Doesn’t everyone have a dream? Truthfully, I have always had so many that I just bounced around with my dreams—every single one of them having to do with creativity except for one. We give up way to easily. I gave up way to easily but I’m gonna say my dreams fizzled—not died—just fizzled, and I gave them few thoughts once I met and married my husband and had children. I’m grateful for the fizzle now for I could not have handled it any other way.  But now I can tell that that fizzle feels a small breeze and I think it will get so strong that it will become a flame! I hope so. I also hope that I don’t get burned. 🙁

What is it about the month of October? I once thought that losing my granddaddy—momma’s daddy—on Halloween would probably be the most sad and scariest day of my life. Wrong! Momma was raped and murdered in October and then I thought that would be the most sad and scariest day of my life. Wrong! I was diagnosed with triple negative breast can-sur in October and I thought that that was my breaking point. Three strikes—you’re out!

I had a dream and trust me when I tell you that it was nothing like Martin Luther’s. In my dream a 1960’s milkman comes in the Chemo truck to pick me up. This is part of the email that I send to one of my best friends.


Bad news-last night in my dreams the 1960’s milkman from TV came to pick me up in the Chemo truck.

Good news-I saw the 13th miner rescued and as you know, 13 is my favorite number.

Bad news-In another dream my husband and I were going to a church function but it wasn’t our church and the man at the front door was giving flu shots to children while drinking a tall Budweiser! My husband broke down crying and I said that I would handle it. There was a curtain hanging across the door so I crawled under it to go find a church elder and then… just as I was standing up and adjusting my dress, a lady—one of my friends from church—came up behind me and swished the curtain back and  just walked thru. I said oh, that would have been easier!

And I signed that email …I am signing to you… Dancin’ Backwards in High Heels.

P.S. that’s the title of my new book or maybe…White Trash in a Mint Coat!                                          I can’t decide but it’s not life threatening!!!

That was 7 years ago. My best friend lost a family member and as we headed to the funeral I somehow could not stop thinking that my own funeral would possibly be next. At the church I walked towards an old neighbor of ours in my black suit with my long hair flowing and before I could tell the man who I was he grunted and said, “You look jus like your daddy.” I smiled even though I wanted to have a melt down and thought of losing my long hair to chemo and said, “Oh sir, you have no idea!” My daddy is as bald as Yul Brynner and I kid you not! Who’s crazy now?  😀

Dream Big, Smile Often!

Love, patty