Roxy's TMI moment:
After being sick for several months, I went to the emergency room at a local hospital. A wonderful, Harvard-educated surgeon admitted me. He arranged for a few tests and then, with the help of two other doctors, performed an eight hour surgery which saved my life. At one point, these gifted men held some of my organs in their hands, cleaning them of infection. (Ewww, I know.) My doctor said that he had never performed a more difficult procedure and had no idea why I was still alive.
Thankfully, I woke up from the anesthesia and Nurse Hatchett-- or rather, her meaner, more cantankerous older sister-- made me get out of my bed and walk. And so I did, with great effort. But I wasn't alone, I had my trusty, stylish IV pole with me and at least five or six bags of mysterious fluids. I walked all around the hospital floor like this every few hours, day and night. When it was light outside, I'd watch people through the large windows as they went about their lives and wish I was them. Fervently. I wanted to be anyone else right then.
There was a water-stain on the ceiling tile above me (yes, just like Madeline), and one night, I thought of how nice it would be if I could just climb up into that black space and disappear. The pity party eventually grew old. I grabbed my unwieldy IV-pole dance partner and began my journey around the dimly lit halls. It was here that I learned something. Other patients had it far worse than I did. As I walked by those rooms, I had a brief glimpse into another's suffering, and for a moment, I put myself into their situation.
Of course I wrote before I got sick, but I believe I'm a better writer now. I'd like to think I have more resources to offer the fictitious characters I create. Writing makes use of my experiences-- the good, the bad, and the medical. It helps life make sense somehow.
I write because I have to, because my brain is so filled with ideas and feelings, it won't let me not write. I love the freedom to be and create anything I like. I love to tell a good story, and let's face it, few things compare with sudden inspiration flowing from you to the page... These are some of the reasons I keep trying to learn the craft.
Now, more importantly, what makes you write?
I'm sort of like you. I need an outlet for all the feelings -- the emotions I'm dealing with in my real life.
ReplyDelete*hugs*
Thank goodness you pulled through okay, Roxy. What a scary experience but it gave you a deep and fulfilling yearning to write. Writing is really magical, isn't it? Things just seem clearer somehow when you can take the bad things that happen and figure them out on paper. It makes life just a little bit clearer. Hugs to you!
ReplyDeletewow! That's a crazy story! Thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteI don't really know why i write. I think, more than anything, i want to be a writer as a career. I don't want to do anything else. And so i write, because that's step one
I'm so glad you're better now. What an experience! When I was a child, I had my appendix out, not life threatening, but the old nurses did make me do the WALK. ugh. It hurt. But like they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And in your case, a stronger writer.
ReplyDeleteWhy do I write? I don't know. I'll have to think about that one.:)
"I write because I have to, because my brain is so filled with ideas and feelings, it won't let me not write." exactly how i feel. glad you didn't succumb to the dark hole. the world would be a less beautiful place without you.
ReplyDeleteSo glad you are better! I write because I really love to. It brings me joy and contentment. A feeling of fulfillment.
ReplyDeleteThat was an amazing post. I write because it makes me feel alive and because, like you, it helps make sense of my life and the world around me, no matter how awful it might be at times. Pain can be transformed on the page into something better, something worthwhile.
ReplyDeleteWhat a story - glad it all worked out. It's amazing what doctors can do. So glad there are so many who want to enter that exhausting profession.
ReplyDeleteI write because I always have - it's just something I do, something I've always done. :)
Wow, Roxy. That's a scary story. So glad you got to the hospital in time!
ReplyDeleteI love your reason for writing. So eloquent. I love to write. I do. I love the feel of a story pouring out of me, and I love to experience new things through my characters. It is such a wonderous thing.
Wow. Just wow. What an experience. I write to make a connection with young people. Maybe in a small way to help make a difference in their lives?
ReplyDeleteI think I'm as lost in a moment of 'wow' as my commenting peers here. So glad you pulled through with even more exuberance for writing. What makes me write? Well, it's the knowledge that no matter what life brings, I can always have something special to mold and indulge myself in. I don't need a 'special place' because I can always come up with exciting new characters and experiences. Putting them on the page just makes them seem to much more tangible and makes me feel wonderful about my passion.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you are better now. I write because I have way too many ideas in my head. It also helps me escape the monotony of life. I can go anywhere and be anyone when I write. Like your new background --I just changed my background too!
ReplyDeleteFun post!
So sorry you had to go through all that, but your right. It's the experiences we have - good or bad that make us stronger.
ReplyDeleteI started writing 8 months after my third child was born. I was suffering from depression and felt totally lost. A friend encouraged me to write and it brought me out of the depths. Writing gives me purpose.
Thank you all for these outstanding comments. Each of them are so beautifully expressed. I'm inspired by your talent and by the warm welcome I've received from each of you.
ReplyDeleteWhat a great post!
ReplyDelete"Writing makes use of my experiences-- the good, the bad, and the medical. It helps life make sense somehow."
That's it for me too.
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ReplyDeleteI'm right there with you. I had a surgery in November to correct a problem I'd had for months. I wandered the hospital the few days I was there and felt terrible for those worse than me. Complications landed me back in surgery in December. I had flesh removed and a wound vac attached. These things are awful. I felt so sorry for myself. But then I went online and 'googled' wound vac and the images I saw again made me appreciate that although my situation sucked, it could have been a lot worse. (I recommend NOT googling wound vac images, btw, unless you have a strong stomach.)
ReplyDeleteSo, my point is, suffering does actually make us better observers and writers, and truly appreciate what gifts life has given us. I'm still home from work, recovering from my ordeal, but I've used that time to finish and polish my manuscript. In a way, the ordeal was a gift of time.
Great post.
Thanks, Solvang, for stopping by. I appreciate your comment!
ReplyDeleteWow, Christi. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I'm also glad you're doing better and that you are writing. It's a great catharsis and a positive means for expressing thoughts and feelings. Take it easy on yourself. :)
Both fiction and non-fiction, I think, require some kind of experience to draw from. Positive, negative, whatever it takes to make us think and feel. It's the stagnancy that kills the process.
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