Comfortable with being uncomfortable

Unintended break

There was a time when I was comfortable not having written anything for years. Lately, I am uncomfortable if I haven't written anything for a few days. But sometimes, circumstances dictate what we are able to do. Since I haven't set aside any specific time to write, I didn't. Consider it a vacation of sorts, to gather information and change direction.

I also had a change in my work schedule that put me on third shift. I am a night person anyway, as we've established, but it doesn't bode well for me writing, which has mostly taken place on sleepless nights. Since I am not really a daytime person and working at nights seems to take a little more out of me, I have been sleeping more than usual. If you've ever worked at night, you'll understand. Most people don't. But I do have some nights off and as I get acclimated to this time adjustment I imagine that I'll be writing again somewhat more often.

Taking stock

I've still been thinking a lot though. I never stop. It's what keeps me from enjoying any regular sleep. Much of that time has been spent looking at the stories I can tell. I'm no Jack Kerouac and I've discovered that I really don't have anything extraordinary to share. The story about my Dad passing away is about the best I can muster. Hopefully I will be able to post an updated and revised story on the anniversary of when I lost him (which, incidentally, is 22 years ago this week.)

I have four ideas that I need to develop now, a few based in some part on my own personal experiences. But again, they're rather pedestrian, because my life has been fairly ordinary to this point. Which isn't to say that I haven't had a wonderful and enjoyable life, but nothing so grand as to get anyone to particularly stand up and take notice.

I think it's time to step out of my comfort zone. Time to embellish some facts, take some literary license, and create some fantastic fiction. Or perhaps it's time to make an old idea new again.

Reincarnation

There are very few truly original ideas. I often tell my daughter that everything has already been done. That doesn't mean that there is no benefit in a revamped idea. There are countless stories of magical children, not just Harry Potter and Narnia. Hunger Games? A more engaging story than Running Man (1987) but essentially the same premise. The movie Rat Race was thoroughly entertaining, but go watch It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. Same thing. Romantic comedies are basically all the same. Every baseball movie is about a comeback or some tortured individual, because everybody loves an underdog, somebody to root for. My editor is rooting for me not to end another sentence with a preposition.

So the time has come to re-invent myself...in a way. Time to tell the stories that I was meant to tell, embellish a little, use my imagination, follow the road not taken, and in some cases, flat out lie. I have to be willing to whatever it takes in order to sell the story and discover the writer's life that I've always wanted. Then maybe I'll abandon this blog, or pass it along...to another Incomplete Writer.

To make a long story short (too late)

Part III

I hate to call this Part III like it's turning into some B flick horror story. It was a little dramatic if only because of the crazy chain of events and perfect storm of confusion. I wasn't trying to turn my life into an episode of mystery diagnosis. It just kind of happened.

I was taking my temperature multiple times throughout the day as I was fading away. Everyone was concerned for my well-being, asking me if I had eaten. I usually hadn't, but I was too focused on trying to do my job that I wasn't thinking about anything else. I was worried, but I didn't know any more than the doctors, so what could I do? I tried not to let it show and I think I was fairly successful at that. However, I was never quite sure if pushing ahead like business as usual made me appear stupid or strong.

I was out of work twice over those nearly four months and that only made me crazier because I didn't have the energy to do anything. I'm not accustomed to being the center of attention, not comfortable at all with it, but for those few months, I was in the spotlight. I got a lot more attention than I was used for quite a while after that.When I got my diagnosis of Classic Hodgkin's Lymphoma, I was ready.

I never thought I was going to die. Somehow that surprised a lot of people. I still have this one vendor that I see from time to time that tells me that I'm an inspiration. I never ever considered that outcome. But everyone around me, whether they shared it aloud or not, was very upset at the prognosis of a battle with Cancer.

My wife and daughter kept it to themselves but were very worried about losing me. And yet, the woman who got so frustrated at my lack of concern for myself, got me to a hospital and finally got doctors to see that I was actually sick, was upset that I was willing to jump into treatment so quickly. I had my first Chemotherapy treatment four days before Christmas 2012.

Now that I've shared my story, that brings me to why I decided to retell it a couple of years later. Three of my friends on Facebook posted similar memes regarding the handling of personal adversity. Andrew has a knack for being concise, even in his posts. I've pasted his below.

For every action, there is a reaction

The nerds among you are recognizing this as Newton's 3rd law (which is actually more like, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.) You could also call it the 1st Law of Facebook, but I digress. You might not be surprised how most people react to the "C" word. When I was younger, every one I knew that got Cancer died. Everyone. Times have changed.

Despite the fact that there is no cure for Cancer (and we can discuss whatever conspiracy you believe to exist on another blog, but not this one) there are noticeably more survivors now then 30 years ago. I was diagnosed at Stage 3B with classic Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Technically I am in remission, because there is no cure, and it is likely that it will return later in my life. Given that I had developed Shingles in my early 30s, I would say it's a pretty darn good chance.

There were varying reactions, but we're going to focus on mine, which was, OK. Let's start treating this to fix my body. I never thought about dying. I just wanted to get the me I had known back. The me that competed in sprint distance triathlons, played soccer, was active with my kids in baseball and softball. To some of those around me, that was inspirational.

Nothing to see here...

I am human. I am fallible. I have defined myself more for my career, my work ethic, or my tenacity on the sports fields than anything else. I should be a better father and husband and define myself by family. But I have never considered myself a survivor. I was simply looking at the statistics.

Despite my body being attacked by Cancer, it took 4 months to be diagnosed, so my body was doing something to fight for itself. I had 12 Chemotherapy sessions. The fact that I had fluids introduced into my body that would have killed a healthy individual notwithstanding, I had a relatively easy time. I had no nausea. I had Chemo on Tuesdays and went to work on Wednesdays afterwards. I don't have a physical job so I was able to manage. And my Chemo was less than what others receive for treatment.

I just sat there. Each treatment lasted anywhere from two and half to four hours. I credit my Oncologist, Dr. Kotz and the wonderful nurses and staff at Cape Fear Cancer Specialists for taking care of me. The surgeon who installed and removed my port for treatments did more than I. So I just don't think of myself as a survivor. If calling me a survivor helps you to make it through that day, then that's your prerogative.

I would just as soon you call me Jon...the Incomplete Writer.