Some established and published authors say that to be authentically enticing, one must lay it all out there for the reader. Hemingway’s advice to ‘bleed all over the paper’ comes to mind.
In my case bleeding would be trivial. Pfft. Anyone can bleed.
I have a few less palatable things which would wind up on the paper. I’m willing, in certain ways, to reveal a bit of their true nature; I’ve yet to feel any compulsion to open them wide.
They’re still too personal. They hurt too much. After all, it’s only been 19 years. . .
My writing and posting is generally prolific. At the odd times when it stops, there’s a compelling reason.
I’m sick. Well, sicker than usual. When I’m thus, I do not intentionally inflict sickness’s effects on anyone other than those who know me well or live with me. Those effects are at once laughable, odd, startling, sometimes embarrassing and often seriously painful.
Don’t misunderstand: I have written through pain and illness. Some of these posts across the past couple of years have actually been first drafts for chapters of my book about this incredible healing journey. So I have written through sickness and its effects. If I did not, I’d get little done. I just don’t write a lot about it. There’s a difference.
To chronicle the issues themselves is to find it deceptively simple to ease into ‘organ recitals’. To whine, to compare health issues. . . “Yeah? Well, you wanna know what I gotta put up with? You think you got pain–”
For those who don’t know my story – yet – I’ll slightly open the window and allow you a brief peek. The rest of you? Look away. You’ve already known this part. Nothing to see here. Move along.
Ready, newbies? Read quietly and quickly.
We begin with chronic fatigue. I deal with it daily; it’s now part of my ‘Normal’ and always will be in this life. Then. . .
For a period of about seven weeks, I’ve been schooled again that undue, excess stress generates kidney stones for me. Many assorted small ones, including enough large ones with fangs to keep me, ah, alert. Those tend to bring on moderate to severe dehydration, the onset of which I’ve learned to catch earlier and earlier; only twice has it been so intense that I had to have several bags of saline infused at the hospital. That’s normally the extent, after which I slothfully drag myself back to what passes for normal health. This time, my weakened condition invited a couple of viruses which chose to tag-team me. In other words, it’s been a challenging couple of months.
So. I choose at least for the present not to write while sick. There may be a time when it becomes necessary. Until then, I’ll maintain this protocol.
When, after this, you suddenly find my posts, articles and stories temporarily stopped, there’s a reason. And when that happens, if you will, pray for the slothfulness to be swifter than normal. In that way we can be partners in this weird, wonderful mission that God has me on–to write and speak encouragement into your life and urge you on toward personal and spiritual excellence. For without His direct intervention, I wouldn’t be here at all.
It really is quite a story, one that is demanding of energy I never have to begin with.
Thanks for understanding, 2nd Cupper–and for your patience.
© D. Dean Boone, March 2016