writing « Robin Writes

I think…maybe…probably. Well, we’ll see.

I left you at dialysis, a horrific topic and for that, I apologize. I knew then that it was just a matter of time, and not much.

Dennis passed away three years ago this month, eight days after he decided to stop dialysis.

It was surreal. Even though I expected it, even over the years as he was twelve years older than I, and especially after his second cancer diagnosis that was followed by AFib and heart failure, it still doesn’t seem like it happened to me. Almost like I was watching a movie or…something.

The funeral was six days later, here in town, with a respectable turn-out. Including his ex-wife. I have to say, neither I nor the funeral director had ever been or heard of anyone being “congratulated” at a funeral.

I’ll let you think about that for a minute…

So I spent the next five weeks dealing with not one, but two back-to-back respiratory infections. Ugh. Those, however, were followed by weird symptoms and strange pains in my gut. Naturally, I assumed I’d pulled a muscle or something; ovarian cancer was not on my Bingo card.

Surprisingly, I didn’t panic or freak out or anything. Saw the oncologist in May, had surgery a few days later, and that was it. Okay, maybe not exactly, but close enough. I didn’t need any further treatment, and all the scans and tests in the last three years have been negative for any recurrence.

The recovery phase was a bitch.

My kids came up to take care of me and the animals and the farm. Big sacrifice for them, since two of them hate the outdoors and bugs, and one is allergic to everything, even bug spray! They were great, though. The hard parts included a catheter for a couple extra days—that sprung a leak in the middle of the night; the entire herd escaping the paddock at dinnertime; having to take two naps a day; trying to weed-eat about three days post-surgery and lasting less than five minutes; and having to open and close the overhead shop door (I’d wait until a neighbor drove by).

That’s when I realized that I hadn’t lived alone since 1985. Always either kids or a husband, and I’m not even counting pets. Geez, that sounds lame!

I lasted about nine months. And that’s when Ty moved in. Less than two years later, we got married, and it’s been pretty wild ever since!

Let me clarify that a bit. We did spend a great deal of time taking care of his mom. We brought her home from rehab a couple months after her knee surgery, to her home, down the road from us. After two more months, with no PT progress, constantly going back and forth, often spending the night with her, etc., we moved her into assisted living. She hated it. A couple more months, and she was the Prom Queen of the facility. Unfortunately, by January she needed skilled nursing; she passed away that summer.

We were so behind on all the farm work that it was mostly a write-off year. Nothing had gotten done except the bare minimum, and since I’d been there ten years, almost everything needed maintenance and repairs. We made plans and got by, and now we’re here. Winter. Snow. I hate winter.

However, compared to my last 15 years, all this has indeed been wild. My kids used to tell me I never went out or did anything fun—now they roll their eyes when I tell them I was at the bar three nights in one week. Or two. It varies. I’m not the local drunk, but Friday is live music and Thursday is karaoke. Karaoke, by the way, took me my entire life to get up the courage to do. Won’t lie, having a little FOMO that we’re staying in tonight!

On the other hand, Ty is making spaetzle with mushroom gravy, and red cabbage, and schnitzel. He also cooks most nights, and I no longer have to make all the menu suggestions, do all the cooking, or even do all the dishes.

And we have a lot of company now too. Holidays, dinners, game nights. Next week, a group of us are going to the local small animal auction. I PROMISE not to come home with anything. 😉

Anyway, I won’t bore you with more details, but I love our life together. Except maybe the part where I promised, when we both turn 80, to jump out of an airplane with Ty!

Another great post from RHP intern Melanie Whithaus:

As a creative writing student, I am always asked what I want to do with my degree. Well, teaching isn’t an option for me unless it’s at the college level, and working as a journalist has nothing to do with my degree. People assume that when you say you’re a creative writing major, all you want to do is teach. “Oh, you like to write? So are you going to teach,” they ask. The answer to the first question is yes. The latter: no. They then ask why I don’t want to be a teacher. It’s not my thing, I reply. Nothing about teaching a bunch of snot-nosed little kids how to read appeals to me. I’m not studying to be a teacher, and many of my professors have told me how much of a demand there is in the world for good writers.

But the list of questions continues and my list of pathetic answers continues: I honestly don’t know what I want to do with my degree. Not because I am lost, but because I have so many options. Maybe I could work at some random company writing newsletters, or maybe write instructions on how to save yourself from a plane crash. But over the past year, I’ve realized that I want to work in a publishing house and write on the side. I want to be surrounded by the literary world and not just some corporate office. So I have my future decided on. Score! But what about my own writing on the side?

I don’t want it to be an “on the side” sort of thing, but life tends to throw you a curve ball and doing the things you love gets pushed aside until further notice. Between school, work, internships, and life in general, there’s always something to use as an excuse to why I’m not writing.

But my favorite excuse: I have a terrible writer’s block. Which is true, but also I’m incredibly lazy. I have so many ideas and ways to keep myself writing, but of course I find some excuse to not do them. As a struggling writer, one of my favorite things to do to keep myself writing is fan fiction. For those of you who don’t know, fan fiction is when you write a story about your favorite novel, movie, celebrity (the list goes on forever) living in a world that you’ve created. Now, it can be the same “universe” in which the original story is written, but the new plot is yours. People have been writing fan fiction for centuries, but it didn’t get the name until recently.

But why fan fiction? It’s easy writing, I already have the characters and universe developed, all I have to do is create an intriguing plot. It’s a simple way to keep myself writing and more importantly, it keeps writing fun. But now the problem is this: I’m coming up with excuses to why I’m not writing fan fiction!

As a struggling writer and hopefully soon to be a publisher, and for those who assume I’ll only be teaching with an English degree, teaching isn’t my passion: it’s writing. Life gets in the way a lot, but if it’s really something you love, you’ll find time for it. So ten years from now, when I’m working at a publishing house in New York and writing on the side, fan fiction will still be a part of my life. But hopefully, I’ll have my own “universe” to keep me busy.