Saturday, March 22, 2008
WRITER IN RESIDENCE
This morning, after ten days in the hospital, my nurse told me I had become the official mayor of the floor. But if f they're going to hang a sign outside my room, I would prefer it say "Writer in Residence." . I never was much for politics. As a writer, I tend to grow empathy for even the darkest of characters. Clearly, I'm unfit to govern--even among my own creations.
So. After days of sipping clear liquids, watching TV, surfing the net, reading books and emails ( which I can't answer from the hospital for some reason) a strange urge came over me. It was the urge that has dominated my life. Stories bubbled up; a poem began to form. I thought of the novel I would begin after the one I'm working on was finished, and behind that, I glimped the shadow of another.
How strange, how marvelous that it should follow me here! Even when my brain is still thick with anesthesia! Even when I ignored it in favor of TV and magazines! Still it follows. Still it comes.
As for my medical status, I'm well enough to walk to the kitchen and make tea, well enough to joke with the staff, and to get excited about the new "surgical soft" diet that's been ordered for lunch. (It's been a long ten days on jello and broth.) Now it's pretty much a waiting game. Waiting to learn if the surgery will hold. Waiting to eat normally again. Waiting, waiting to see the imperfect incredible place known as home.
Thanks to all who have continued to check in on me, who have left such wise, caring comments, who have kept up the "hope watch" with me. I send smiles and hugs to each of you.
I hope your lunch is everything you want it to be and that you're out of that place asap. I'm thrilled to hear you sounding so full of hope and plans!
Still praying...Love and love. L.
*You* are wonderful. xoxo, M
Hey, I have a tech idea about why you can't send mail from the hospital. If you are using a POP account in a mail program (like Eudora), it often has a hard time negotiating with different ISP protocols. You might want to try using the web-based program to send your mail. Does that make sense? I use Apple's Mail program to read my olypen account. It doesn't work for sending mail when I am out of town. So, I log into olypen.com, and use their links to get into my mail account, and send mail from there. Just an idea.
I hope your lunch is delicious.
I add my hope to the sum of hope on this watch.
Much love.
I just came from a long walk in the sunshine with Steve and our dog and am sending this glorious sunshiny feeling of spring and hope and renewal and moving forward straight over to you. Then again, even if it's not sunny in Boston today, it sounds like it's getting sunnier and sunnier in your little room.
Keep healing, sweetie, it sounds as if you're almost there!
xoxo
Clearly, I'm unfit to govern--even among my own creations.
You're having much more of a positive effect there than the floor's mayor would, I am certain!
But I hope you get well and home very soon.
You're wonderful
I'm just glad to read your post of today and marvel at you...I know you'll hate this, but you are my hero right now. I am in awe of anyone who can put away the worry beads and look at the world the way you do.
Maybe in your honor I will try and remove all the strands of my own set of beads today.
Okay, done.
Oh hell. Nobody look. Without wearing all those beads, it appears I now have to go put on actual clothes. I just hope I still have some -- it's been a while.
xo
All kidding aside, wow, Patry. I am thrilled you are on the upswing and overjoyed your muse never leaves your side. You really are truly wonderful.
I'm wishing you a bunch of cheerful daffodils from my garden this Easter.
Love and hope xx
Love.
xoxo
love you,
R
it is so refreshing to hear that ideas and words, poetic and prose, are all dancing through your head, calling your name. to me it means you are feeling better and are ready to reclaim your writer's life. we are sending our wishes that within a few days you will be traveling across the bridges, heading home to type out the stories you are meant to tell.
i hope your spring is as beautiful as ours - cool breezes with yellow light and blue skies and a splatter of rain here and there. our gardens join us in huge celebration of such glory. :))
happy easter, patry and ted! may the easter bunny brings you a tasty snack on sunday. x0x0
XO{{{{{{{Patry}}}}}}XO
Happy Easter to you, Patry. And happy spring --- wishing you home soon where you can really enjoy this season of renewal and rebirth.
Best wishes for a full recovery. My hopes and prayers are with you.
Thinking of you and knowing that you will beat this thing.
and of course you should have signs (many signs!) on your door pointing to the fact that you are someone who is truly wonderful.
It is so great to know what the true essence of yourself is. You are a writer. You write. That is a good thing to know about oneself, when life tosses so much at you.
Always wishing you well, and adding you to our prayers. ;)
:)
Pulling for you out here among the English.
You'll visit those Canadian Rockies yet! There lies book number five. Or six...
sending hope and love and most of all peace,
m
Wishing a speedy recovery. Can't wait to read all of the lovely stories you have percolating.
a.
(sorry for the delete, I need to spell check before I post) :)
Terri
http://www.islandwriter.net
Love,
D.
Isn't the art drive fantastic? And it is a drive; I've always said so. When I was at Lahey, I couldn't read or write, and TV and the internet cost an additional $12 a day, to which I objected. I had brought a notebook and a book to read in ultimate optimism, but really couldn't use them until days after I got back home. But you know what else I brought? Yarn. And that I could play with.
The artist must create no matter what. And you're right, it is a gift, a huge honking present delightful to be able to unwrap anywhere.
Glad you are home now.
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