Obviously, I haven’t been by my own damn blog for a little while now. This doesn’t mean that life has been uninteresting. Far the opposite, what with moving and work and music and, most notably, Ashley and I spent an afternoon in Cleveland with Jamiebug and her husband.
While we were there, Ashley and Jamie spent almost every conversation talking about life with cystic fibrosis and life after a double-lung transplant. It became quite clear to me that for all the social networks out there, the myriad ways available for communication and community, nothing – simply nothing – beats straight-up, old-fashioned conversation. These lines of lightning aren’t a favored trade for quality faces and eyes.
The two of them sat in the backseat of the car as I drove us to Cleveland Heights talking a mile-a-minute. At one point their conversation led me to realize that, of the first CF-with-cepacia(1) transplant patients done in Pittsburgh, half of the remaining survivors were in my care. And this as I negotiated turns and roadways in decent traffic around University Heights.
I’ve spent a week thinking about that moment, about how the realization of my responsibility put so much weight on me and, in the face of it, I questioned whether I could handle it. In the time that I’ve been with Ashley, I’ve never questioned it: I can handle a lot.
But…can I? Really?
To this point I feel that I’ve shown a decided lack of ability in dealing with my own personal life. I’ve nearly thrown it away on four separate occasions. I have not, as Buddhists would say, lived skillfully. I’ve made poor decisions – which is okay – but then dealt with them poorly – which is not okay. I’ve whined about my station in life – which is okay – but then not done a damn thing to change it – which is not okay.
It’s time to change it.
Six years ago, I graduated with a degree in Creative Writing. Useless, I know. But not useless enough to justify that I haven’t done a damn thing with it. I almost never sit down intending to write anything more than a blog post. Yet I have the power of poetry at my fingertips.
It’s time to use it. It’s time to change the course of my life, not because life is frail, but because life is meant to be lived freely.
So, I’m checking out…for a while. The time I would spent blogging will now be spent writing – real writing. It’s time to do what I know I can do but I’m too afraid to try.
Yet, blogging has been part of my life for many years now. I doubt I can simply leave it behind. Nor do I want to. I just want it less. I want to spent my time treating life responsibly to that the next time I have a hard series of turns to negotiate, I can be less afraid and be more certain that I can, in fact, deal with it.
- A nasty-ass bacteria that is spread almost exclusively through the CF population and at one point wiped out about 70% of the cystic in the US. Its proliferation was so dramatic that hospitals initially refused to transplant ceptatic patients because the hospitals couldn’t ensure that it wouldn’t spread to every single cystic patient in the place.