When Writing Isn't a Priority (Surgery)

Nothing resembling a poem has come to me since mid-October.  The stilted lines that did appear were melancholy, perhaps a bit maudlin. When I see dead friends tagged on Facebook, it starts, the echo of their deaths reverberate enough/energy to tickle dust from the empty places/they left in me.

Mortality is becoming my obsession, one I feel I'm too young for.

In a couple weeks, I'll be undergoing a thoracoscopy at the same hospital where I had my internal radiation.  They are going to remove a mass I hope isn't cancer.  I'll have to go to rehab after I'm discharged because I won't be able to lift myself for a while.  Soon, this blog will be tucked in a protective layer of mothballs and slid in a drawer.

My writing is important to me, but it's one of the first things I leave behind during a crisis.  Some people would say I'm not meant to be a writer because my pen probably won't be warming a page if the apocalypse comes.  But, I think it makes me human... and logical.  My brain divides my world into what needs doing.  And writing can wait— blogging can wait.

My recovery will run into December and, therefore, my holiday activities.  So, not only do I have to consider all the pre-op stuff (packing, research, notifying people, appointments, tracking medicines) but the holiday stuff as well.  My husband and I either need to complete shopping entirely before I go, or work out a strict list he can follow in my stead.  I narrowed down my list of card recipients and will sign my name without writing individualized letters.  I'll have to let the speed of my recovery dictate if candy gets made this year and how long Brandon and I will visit my family for Christmas.

When my mind isn't spinning with to-do lists (or freaking out about death), it shies away from reality.  I'm reading books, watching television, listening to music, and playing video games.  Writing isn't there—I can't see even a spark of the fire or feel its heat—it just takes too much of my brain.  It will come back after the chaos, and I'll be ready.

When was the last time life forced you to take a leave of absence from your writing?

*~*~*

More thoughts on my cancer blog.
My mom was in the hospital last week... again.  She's too young to have all her troubles.  She's okay for now.