Sitting at my desk at the top of the stairs, I’m enjoying my Sunday morning alone time, my quiet time, although it’s never completely quiet of course. There’s the sound of forced air from our heater, my fingertips knowingly finding letters on the keyboard, cats racing up and down the stairs, and lastly, a slight ringing in my left ear from either too many years in a factory or listening to music with the volume on ten. Still, a good sort of quiet.
And for the first time in over four months, I’m writing a post and happy to have some sort of presence here again after being invisible for a while. Maybe I just needed a break, some self-reflection time, time to rediscover what I love about writing, or… maybe something else. I don’t have a good reason most likely.
So why today? I tweeted an archive post yesterday. It was a post I wrote immediately after my uncle passed away. A year ago today. Re-reading it, it got me thinking about being more focused on writing. Finishing works I’ve started. My uncle would have encouraged me to do so. So here I am this morning and feeling somewhat rejuvenated. The new laptop my wife got me Friday helps too.
Presently I’m writing a novel and another short story. Other than some research for my novel, my focus has been on completing the short story. For reasons unclear to me, it took a different direction and I’m going with it. Conceptually, I think it’s the best writing I’ve done and I’m excited to finish it up, get it edited, and release it. Then back to the beast I’ve titled November Rain.
Other news? Back in early November I felt something was wrong with me. My wife is a nurse and confirmed what I felt and pushed me to bring it up when I went back to the doctor to discuss results of a routine fun filled adventure guys my age eventually must have done. I met with the doctor, discussed the earlier procedure from October, then brought it up. She examined me, and confirmed what both my wife and I already suspected. Not an emergency but I was going to need surgery. I’ve never had a surgery.
There was a catch though. Isn’t there always? The doctor said she would not do the surgery unless I quit smoking. She would not even schedule it until I had quit for at least eight weeks. Her terms or get someone else to do it. I live in a small town. Someone else only means the other doctor capable of doing it. Or head to the city.
Tonight at 9:00 will be exactly seven weeks since I have had a cigarette. I’m using the patch. I’m on Step 3 which means my nicotine intake for the day is one third of what it was when I smoked and technically, even less because I take it off when I sleep. I have one more week on the patch then I am done. Nicotine free. Smoke free. It’s been awhile since I could say that.
One more week on the patch. One more week and I can call and make an appointment to schedule my surgery.
photo courtesy of Pixabay