Saturday, September 08, 2007

Revision

This blog isn’t what it started out to be. And I lost a lot of readers because of that. When I got too ill to spend hours reading other’s blogs and commenting, see ya later reciprocal bloggers. I stopped writing about Epee; adios epee obsessed. I didn’t write LGBTQI or feminist stuff anymore (too tired to look at news-servers). And at some point, after losing most of my original readers, I decided that if I had to be sick, I would make it funny; my life as the theatre absurd.

When you have a very small window to the world, the things that crush that window hurt a great deal. I was hurt, I was tired, I had gone outside only four times unaccompanied in two weeks. That makes a person a little…frustrated. Things happened. I reacted. I plan on acting now instead.

So I am giving notice that there will be subtle (or perhaps not so subtle) changes to my writing. I appreciate the comments, I certainly do, but I have a chance to write about SOMETHING, and I’m not going to throw that away because on-line one liners get thousands of hits and I get a couple hundred. Hey, not a lot of people want to think about getting sick and fewer want to read about it. Being sick is taboo in our culture, and so is talking about it. And whatever I have doesn’t appear to be simple. Too bad, life is like that.

Some days I feel I am a monster; Linda said yesterday, “If your workers see you like this no wonder they are scared of you; I’m scared.” But I am still human, just experiencing things many humans don’t. A lot of people have it worse than me. Few of them write about it. I will. You want to know in detail what it is like to die, gasping for breath, a pit of fire in your chest like fire, pain so bad you pray to pass out. I try and tell you, particularly since I don’t die, even on days like Friday when I tried, fighting off the oxygen mask as my arms, then body grew limp. But as Linda so aptly puts it: “I just wait till you pass out and then put the mask on.” Oh, and that thing about how you can’t use your hands to stop the flow of oxygen to your brain to cause brain death because you pass out first: That’s true.

I may post a bit less frequently because I am working on a book. But I’ll try and write well enough that, if you chose, you can follow the whole ride, all the way to death if that is where this is going. Or to a very altered life. If you think I take all this change with grace and good humor, that I don’t want “my life” back (Whatever weird dream that happens to be that minute), you’re wrong. The sad truth is that there are a few life experiences that are almost impossible to replicate in writing. A month ago, the neurologist lead me to believe that I might, if we did enough tests, return to some sort of “normal” life; maybe one using a walker, but one where I am seen as more than Linda’s pet. On Thursday, that was taken away. That night, someone told me, “It’s not how long you live, but how you live your life that is important.” What a nice sentiment, eh? Me sitting up in my apartment sending out blessings or something? Fuckers. No offense, I want to RUN again. I went to a fencing competition AFTER I had been told that exercise pushed my heart to lethal levels; does that sound like a person at peace? Even in my fucking manual chair I push myself; faster, harder, knowing that I am shredding my muscles (think lifting a box of wet cardboard). And when the fever goes down and my muscles mend I go and do it again. There is no plan, no book you get, no inner calm. I am a fighter, so I fight.

There are thousands of people right now facing cancer, disease, disability, waking up in a hospital bed being told their legs won’t work any more, or maybe that a limb has just been amputated. I am sure there are thousands of ways that people find of coping. I will find my way, I will write about it.

End of transmission.

13 comments:

kathz said...

You're a writer. You write because you must, just as you fight because that's the way you must respond. It's all to do with who you are.

Nobody would choose what's happening to you. But if you can write about about it, you may achieve a great deal. The least you will do is find that other people understand more - and that's no small achievement.

Good luck with the writing. I'll go on reading and commenting (except when very busy with work, personal stuff, etc.) - and that's because what you have to say is worth saying.

And your comments on my blogs have helped me through some sticky patches too.

Artistic Soul said...

I'm still reading -- I just don't always comment. :)

And yes...you did catch the alias change.

Sally said...

Magnificent.

Strong

Unflinching.

That is what this is for.

Tell it, how it is. It is what worthwhile people do.

That is what blogging is for.

Wheelchair Dancer said...

And I, for one, will read it.

WCD

Cooper said...

I find it wildly amusing when people get upset becuse one chooses to write something the reader is not expecting...or that the reader doesn't want to read. While I too wish to be internationally adored for my blog (hack cough)it's primarily there for me. I love the comments, don't misunderstand, but it's an outlet for me and even if the comment count is continually 0, I will keep going....
as should you :>)

Daniel, the Guy in the Desert said...

I'm not really a fan of blogging as a substitute for TV. There are things that need to be said, that most don't really want to hear.

This is a story we need to hear.

abi said...

Your writing is what drew me here in the first place, and what keeps me here. Chances are, whatever you write about I will keep coming back, because I really want to read it. Although perhaps not at work.

Elizabeth McClung said...

Well after my micro rant I sure hope I come up with something profound, or at least profound SOUNDING. Truth is that I am instead doing absurd looking things because my neck and back have been fused for 4 days so I do a lot of screaming and trying to sleep (and being me, going to try and play tennis, yeah, try to put racket over head to hit ball - scream and drop racket - very impressive). As I said to Linda, "The pain is telling me I'm alive."

Linda: "You must be one of the most alive people I know then."

Oh abi - I've managed to zing Linda a few times so now I have to tell her which ones are "work safe" so her boss doesn't walk up to a giant picture of a vibrator or a topless woman running down the street. Alas, I dream of a time in the world when pictures of vibrators will be accepted everywhere.

Wendryn said...

I'm not commenting much, but I'm still reading - you are an interesting writer, whatever you happen to be dealing with at the moment. I appreciate you telling us what's going on.

Donimo said...

You're definitely keeping me as a reader. I struggle and push and live on in strange parallel universe that sometimes runs very close to yours, sometimes runs remotely near normal people's existence. I find that my pain and exhaustion leave me very muddled and I am so very glad that you have this stunning clarity and you keep writing about your life.

Have you checked out my other blog wherein I blog about my experience with illness using my art? I'd love your feedback.

www.mybodyofwork.blogspot.com

Casdok said...

I have just found you and i will carry on reading what you have to say.

Sara said...

Still reading. Just letting you know. :)

Elizabeth McClung said...

Thanks for keeping reading - I will try to INCLUDE the funny with the non funny - not sure if I can make it profound. But I do appreciate every reader (and comments) - except those people who come here for nake boy pics, and zombie sex - just go somewhere else PLEASE.