I’m always divided about what I should be blogging about here — whether details of my personal life are just too….personal. Or whether you like seeing the inside of an author’s life. I’m pretty much an open book (HaHaha! Hadn’t thought of how that analogy works now I’m an author) when it comes to “sharing” things with people. And this past week does have a link to writing, so here goes…
If you’ve been checking that wordcount progress meter over on my sidebar, you may have noticed it hasn’t moved since Tuesday. NaNo and I apparently don’t have a good relationship — in fact, I’m pretty sure NaNo is out to get not just me but my family members. Every time I sign up to participate, something major happens to someone in my family.
The first year, 2007, I was 10 days in when my father had a massive stroke that meant he could never go home again. I spent the next 5 months driving my mom up to his hospital, advocating between her and the hospital.
I didn’t participate in 2008 because I was in the middle of edits for Private Property and had just finished Personal Protection. But I did participate in 2009. Gizmo Guy got H1N1 in the middle and when I took him to the doctor we discovered he had undiagnosed diabetes. We spent the next couple weeks running around having blood tests done, ECGs, visiting the diabetes clinic and having meetings with nurses and dietiticians. Luckily I’d finished my story the day before, 5 days early — which was Deliberate Deceptions by the way.
This year? Three years to the day after my mother phoned me to tell me about my father’s stroke, I got another call from her. “I’m not feeling well. Something’s wrong.” Mom lives out in the country and about 45 minutes from me, so I raced up there to discover her right side of her body wasn’t working properly. (She didn’t tell me that significant detail on the phone, only that she thought perhaps she had the flu.) Suspecting she’d also had a stroke, I raced her down to the hospital near where my sister lives instead of the one in her county where they’d taken my father. (They’re the same distance apart, and this one is associated with a much better larger hospital if they’d had to transfer her.)
After several CT scans, echocardiograms and ECGs, high blood pressure meds, heparin to stop blood clots, cholesterol lowering meds (she’s apparently been ignoring herself while worrying about Dad) they confirmed she did have a stroke. Good news is it was mild and she’s stabilized now. She’s to be transferred to a stroke rehab center that’s only 3 miles from home so that’ll give me both peace of mind that she’s being cared for while being able to pop in for quick visits around her therapy sessions. According to the specialists, she has a good chance of recovery, but whether she’ll be able to live in her house out in the country alone again we’re not sure. So we may end up having to find her a new place to live.
Needless to say, while I’ve been worried about her and racing around between her house, my place and the hospital, and just all the general stress of seeing Mom sick, I’ve not been able to concentrate on writing at all. Now all the panic’s off and we know what’s happening, I’m going to try to get back to a routine — it’ll be a new routine with added items on my to-do list, but at the top of the list will be writing again.
And on the list will be note to never ever participate in NaNoWriMo ever again.
Oh, and the title of this post? It’s in homage to Robert Burn’s poem “To a Mouse” where he coined that immortal phrase “The best laid schemes of mice and men//gang aft aglay (go astray)”. Yeah, you can make all the plans (and to-do lists) you want, only to have life remind you you’re not in charge…