The Wandering Author Returns

I truly did not plan to be away so long. On New Year's Day, when I'd hoped to post, I discovered my firewall software had auto-updated and was now fighting it out with my anti-virus software. I located and downloaded a new firewall program, only to confront the fact that something, whether the "security wars" or a long-time accumulation of junk in my system, had left my system dangerously unstable. Roughly half the time I booted up, the system froze immediately on reaching my Desktop.

After a few weeks of tweaks, fiddling, removing a few fonts, clearing out junk from the Registry, and all those other fun things that keep Windows systems above water a little longer, I had a bit more luck, but I was still not too confident. So I began trying to go through all my software (yes, you say, that is the problem) so I could restore my system to the condition it was in when I bought it, then reinstall only the programs I need.

In the middle of that, the Brisbane flu paid me a visit, despite the flu shot I got last fall. February passed in a haze of fever, while I've been frantically trying to finish going through my software (I have about 200 CD-ROMs, and much more downloaded freeware), work, catch up with everything else in my life, and fit in a little writing.

Ah, yes, writing. I can discuss it a little more now. My friend Jim, who my wife and I found dead on his kitchen floor last September, wanted to write as well. He was one of the most intelligent people I've ever known, and I always assumed he was a better writer than I was. I never dared show him anything of mine, because I was too much in awe. He always said his stuff was crap, or worse, but we all say that, and since he was embarrassed to show it to me, I didn't press the point.

After he died, we found a few creative writing courses, but not a single word Jim had written. He was so unhappy with it that he destroyed it all at some point. Between the shock of finding him, then finding out he'd destroyed all trace of his writing (and I guarantee you, far worse than anything he ever turned out since the age of ten has been published), I was unable to write at all.

I struggled with attempts to force myself to do writing exercises, or to write a story as a tribute to Jim, but no words would come; anything I got on paper was jumbled and useless. I'm not just being down on my work here; it really wasn't half as good as I know I can do. I decided to sign up for the two year novel writing course at Forward Motion, in hopes that would get me jump started.

I'm happy to say, it worked! I've got a very tiny start on a new novel, and plan to keep going until it's done. I'll be doing other writing as well, of course, now that I can again. Trying to keep up with assignments is one thing that's kept me away; that, and the residual exhaustion from the flu.

I had hoped to make a grand return, and fix all my broken links, clean up the template, and start posting regularly - all at once. That isn't going to happen. I need to start slowly, and I need to consider exactly where I'll go with this blog, and my online presence in general. Everything that has happened has just hardened my determination to be a writer. I will keep at it until I am published, or die trying.

In addition, Jim's cat, Julius, is doing well, which is a good thing - he is one of the sweetest cats I've known. Yet that means continued vet bills to keep him as healthy as possible; bags of IV fluids, medications, visits. So I do need to begin looking for a way to bring in a little more income than I am. I hope to do it in a way that will be fair to all my readers; you won't see a sudden explosion of ads for all kinds of junk.

I'll discuss those plans later, and a few ideas I have for making a bit of money by writing. I just wanted to let you know I was alive; Lehane's efforts to drag me out have had their effect, of course. (The subtle signs are all there, even if he denies it. Lehane is to blame for my return, no matter what he says.) I'd started a humourous story in which Lehane entered cyberspace in an effort to find me and drag me out, but I haven't managed to finish that.

I won't be posting all that regularly right at first. One of the things I've been trying to catch up on, which has kept me exhausted, is helping Jim's son as far as I can with the probate. He has an interest in some land, and I looked up the records on it for him to save him the lawyer's fees. It was a good thing I did! I had to sift through nearly two dozen deeds on the property to get to where I could make any sense of the tangled trades back and forth within the family.

In fact, this isn't much of a post. I simply remembered my blog (I needed the URL, and that got me thinking), missed it, and sat down here to let my thoughts flow out of my fingers in this long, rambling fashion. I do hope to do better soon. I have plans, either for this blog or a new web site, to make it a more useful resource for writers. There are a few areas I'm pretty good at, and I hope I can help some of the rest of you in those areas. I will also be catching up on previous projects that lost ground between my sickness last year and Jim's death. I hope my regular readers will gradually notice that I'm back, and put up with me until I get the hang of writing directly from the keyboard, with little or no editing, once again.

Lessons, and a General Update

Lesson One

The most surprising lesson I've learned over the past few months is this: if you are forced to exhaust yourself, be careful when promising yourself rest. Once you set your mind on a certain date, and allow yourself to fully slow down - your body will rest, and leave you little choice! Although I was functioning normally when we found Jim, I had used up many of my reserves, and had not yet got as far as restoring those reserves.

I worked to the point of utter exhaustion, always promising myself that I would be able to rest once November arrived. Even after I caught bronchitis, I forced myself to keep going, with the same promise. Well, we did finish on time (last junk out of the apartment about 11 pm on the 31st of October, packed and pulling away from the curb about 11:30 pm - how's that for cutting it close?) and November arrived.

I assumed I would rest, but that I'd also begin getting back to normal. Instead, I learned what it must be like to have narcolepsy. I was so exhausted, and I'd primed myself so much to expect that I could now rest, that my body kept forcing me to sleep, no matter what I intended. I could only accomplish anything in snatches; I often fell asleep so quickly that (for example) while reading I'd suddenly wake when the book slipped out of my hand and hit the floor.

I finally caught up with my sleep enough to be able to stay awake, but I can feel I have still not rebuilt all my reserves. If I stay up too late, I can feel exhaustion dragging at me. I'm mostly over the bronchitis (the asthmatic part is always the last to go, so I still get short of breath easily), and there is no reason for anyone to worry about me (although it does warm my heart to know that my readers care about me), but I am really anxious not to wear myself out quite so badly the next time Life drops a surprise in my lap.

Lesson Two

When he died, Jim still had a lot he wanted to do, and a lot of plans he'd never fulfilled. He expected to have years left to do these things; sadly, that was not the case. I can't restore that chance to him, much as I'd like to, but I can try to learn from his death, and to help my readers learn as well. Life is precious, fragile, and fleeting. Always try to live as though you had only a few weeks or months left.

Sure, there are still things you need to do that aren't what you most want to do. Errands, boring tasks, and the like weigh on us all, and some of them really do have to get done. But, insofar as you have the chance, try to take care of the most important things first. Let the lesser things slide. If the next day, you felt yourself dying, what would you most regret having neglected? What would you regret less? Try to live according to that sense of what matters. No matter how long you have to live (and I hope, for all of you, it is a long and a pleasant life), you'll have fewer regrets.

Lesson Three

Many of you may already know this, or it may seem obvious, but when you are in shock you won't always think clearly, so it is good to have this firmly in mind. Whenever someone dies, whoever will be dealing with their possessions will find, among everything else, an appalling lot of stuff that simply has to be disposed of. If that person lived in an apartment, costs of keeping it are much higher, so the job must be finished much more quickly.

At least in Massachusetts, some kinds of trash are hard to dispose of. At once, find out the local rules for trash disposal, and take full advantage of every trash day as it comes. The most costly items to get rid of are: TVs, computer monitors, computers, and the like, appliances, and mattresses. Give away what you can. Throw away any of these things you are allowed to at no cost. And try to find a good, inexpensive "junk man". Paul, the guy we used, charged less than half what the heavily advertised services would have.

Update

I learned several other lessons, but I'm not posting those now. They would involve discussing aspects of Jim's life that were personal to him, and I don't want to say anything that would have made him uncomfortable. So, if I post them to this blog at all, it will have to be after more thought.

The length of time I've been away from the blog was partly due to sleep's forceful takeover of my life, but it was also due to a few instances of Murphy's Law. One of the few tasks I attempted, once I saw how things were, was something I thought I could do in short bursts. I changed all my passwords so they would be more secure, and switched to a new password management system. In the process, I managed (and now that I'm awake, I could have predicted this!) to spoil my access to several sites.

In no case was the damage permanent; there are always options. But, having read that many people were having trouble with their G-Mail accounts, I first assumed my failure to open any Google site was due to the same type of problem. Of course, it was obvious that wasn't the case, but until I woke up and calmed down enough to think clearly about it, I didn't see that.

In addition, there was another death in my family; my father's cousin, who was more like an aunt to me. Ruthie was 95, and had spent the last few months in a nursing home trying to recover from pneumonia, so it wasn't totally unexpected, but when she died the day before Thanksgiving, it was still a blow. She was a very sweet woman who always seemed as if she'd outlast everybody else.

Jim's Cat

Some of you will have noted that I ended up keeping one of Jim's cats; the oldest, who he loved more than anything. Julius had kidney disease, a thyroid problem, bad teeth, and a bronchial rasp, in addition to being overweight and seventeen years old. In other words, no one else would adopt him. My tiger kittens have accepted him, mostly, although my son's cat still thinks he's Satan, come to take over his position as "big cat".

Julius, for his part, is a sweet guy who doesn't want to fight any of them. He's tried to make friends, but Mandarin seems to regard this as a cunning plot to buy time. So, for the time being, they must be kept mostly separate. It is not so much that they actually fight, but rather that Mandarin's continual hostility causes Julius too much stress. He won't even eat in Mandarin's presence.

At the time we brought him home, his kidney disease was being treated by nothing more than diet. For those of you lucky enough to have never had a cat suffering from kidney disease, I should explain that this diet is bland and apparently utterly devoid of appeal. Although they are fed separately, Julius knows the other cats get better stuff, and isn't inclined to settle for boring slop. So he wasn't eating much at all. Usually, if you hold out for a few days, a 'starving' cat will give in.

We tried that with Julius, but it didn't seem to work well. Ultimately, it turned out the food issue was camouflaging another problem. One of his bad teeth became abcessed, and was so painful he couldn't eat solids at all. The teeth can't be operated on; he's too old and sick to tolerate the anaesthesia. Penicillin did clear up the infection, for now, and he's eating again.

He lost enough weight, quickly enough, that it led to a condition, common in older cats who lose weight quickly, which could threaten his liver. So he couldn't afford to lose any more weight. Briefly, he was back on "real" food - now, with vet approval, he's on a mixture of "kidney food" and "real" food, with a few very high quality treats thrown in.

The real tragedy in all this is the fact that, due to the stress, infection, loss of weight, or some combination of factors, his kidney disease has worsened to the point where he is now on sub-cutaneous fluids, 200 ml twice a week. Giving them to him is an ordeal. He struggles, but makes no effort to hurt us, but he does stare at us, bewildered, wondering why we are doing this to him.

We, of course, know that he'd suffer far worse without the fluids. We can see the difference in him after each treatment; the surge of interest and energy, then a gradual slowing down as the next treatment nears. It is still a difficult thing to deal with. Although it doesn't cause him any pain, it does create considerable temporary discomfort when the fluid, which is of course always slightly cool even after warming, and thus feels "wrong", bulges up under his skin before being absorbed.

Worst of all, any of you who have dealt with kidney disease will know what is implied. If he's on fluids twice a week now, in a while that will get worse, and it will be every other day, then every day... Even now, multiple vet visits before we got him straightened out, 'runs' to the vet to pick up fluid, and all the other little things involved, played their part in keeping me from blogging sooner.

NaNoWriMo

As I implied earlier, I didn't join NaNo this year with any real hope of success. I simply couldn't bear not to participate. Well, I did participate, a very little, but I was seldom if ever on the boards, and my word count is so laughable I may as well not post a total. I couldn't snatch much time between sleeping, taking care of Julius, and trying to undo the messes I made while too sleepy. Next year, I hope to take part, and again to win, if all goes well.

The Future

I am, of course, paying attention to Lesson Two, above. The most important thing in my life is my cats. After that, there is my writing. Blogging is a part of writing. So I don't intend to give up blogging. However, I am going to be very busy for a while taking care of a very sick cat, and if I want to stay in any shape to write, I need to take time to rest, and also to get more exercise and fresh air so I can build up my health.

What all this means is that I will still be here, but, for the time being, not as often. I'm not going to promise to post with any specific frequency; there are too many uncertainties right now. As I am able, I will try to post here, and to write stories (or post ones already written) for those of you who are waiting. I will also, more slowly than I intended, clean up my template and post about the ideas I had earlier this summer.

But, since I'd rather take it easy now than be forced to quit later, I'm only going to do these things as I can fit them in. I look forward to a time when I can spend more time blogging, but right now I can't say exactly when that will be. I will visit your blogs when I can, enjoy reading them, and try to leave a few comments so you know I'm not ignoring you. But, again, I won't be taking as much time to read the blogs I enjoy as I have in the past, not until I have the time to spare for that.

Take heart in this: by the time I can get back into the full swing of blogging, I'll be longing for it! In fact, I'm longing for it now; I'm just trying to make the best long term decision that I can. I apologise for a long and rambling post; I hope my next one will be much better and more interesting than this.

A Quick Note

I'm sorry I've worried some of you, especially as you are clearly loyal readers if you're still coming back after this long. I have simply been dreadfully busy helping to deal with the remnants of Jim's life. Along the way, I've learned a few lessons I'll pass along to you, as soon as I get some rest.

Jim's apartment will be fully cleared out today, the final day of October, which will allow me a bit more rest after this. However, I'm battling exhaustion, my third case of bronchitis this year, and still have a few items to deliver within the next few days, as well as a lot of work absorbing the fraction of Jim's amazing book collection I brought home.

In fact, I'm currently typing with stacks of plastic "totes" full of books stacked behind me. Also, I have a novel burning to be written, and have signed up, in spite of the obvious folly of this, for NaNo 2007. So, I won't be posting any lessons for a few days at least, and I'm afraid November won't be a busy month for posts (except possibly for NaNo updates). Still, I do hope to manage a few posts next month, and to give the handful of loyal readers who still visit some explanation for my long silence.

When It Rains, It Pours

As my regular readers know, I've been slowly recovering from heat exhaustion. The other week, we went to see a relative (by marriage, but I consider him a relative) and friend. He has been ill for some time, we hadn't seen him in a while, so we wanted to go. We all enjoyed the visit, although it was obvious he wished it could last longer.

So, last Wednesday, we drove up again to see him, and try to cheer him up. I was worried, as he really didn't seem to be doing well. (He had diabetes, and had developed breathing problems after beginning to take one of the medications his doctors put him on.) Still, we enjoyed the visit, and planned to come back soon and often. On Saturday evening my wife called him as she did every night to check on him, and got no answer.

This would happen sometimes, if he was asleep and didn't hear the phone, or if he was out. So she called several times, still getting no answer. We were very worried, and she left a message telling him if she didn't hear from him by the next morning we were coming up to see how he was. Well, when we heard nothing by Sunday morning, we drove up there. He'd given my wife keys in case of emergency some time ago.

We drove up, and his car was there, but he wasn't outside where he liked to sit. We went to his door and knocked and called out but got no answer. So we went in and found him lying on his kitchen floor. We called 911 at once, and the paramedics got there fairly quickly. I was outside to show them which apartment he was in, and I led them in, they came in, took one look at him, and said "He's dead." without even tryint to revive him. He'd just recently turned 66.

When the police came, and the medical examiner determined his medical condition from his doctors, he ruled that no autopsy was necessary, but the police are fairly sure he died instantly, sometime on Saturday. The world is much poorer because he is no longer a part of it, but I can't write about him right now. I'm still too upset, and trying to get used to the idea. He was the closest friend I had. I thought he might wind up in the hospital a while, but I never expected this.

What makes it all so much worse is that he had two cats. They were inside with him when it happened; they are indoor cats. They had enough time to figure out what had happened, and are traumatized. They aren't even eating much, and they are, even for cats, huge eaters. They are grieving as well for the person they loved. We'd promised him we'd see that they were taken care of if anything happened to him.

Now, I wish with all my heart, for a number of reasons, including the fact that I love those cats, and the fact that just because they were Jim's I can't bear never to see them again, that I could take them myself, but I have three cats (two of my own, and one who is my son's). They are also indoor cats; in the part of New England where I live, you keep your cats indoors (or take them out only on a leash) or see them dead in a very short time.

My cats are all young, and are fairly well adjusted, but the space we have is just about enough for them. Two are neutered toms, and each one thinks he is the boss, although their squabbles don't get out of hand. Jim's cats are both old, former strays, and one is a former street fighter, now neutered, but still with the instincts to pick a fight with any rivals. So there is no chance I can take them.

So, I called a no-kill shelter, hoping if they couldn't take them in themselves they might at least be able to offer advice. They were sympathetic, but what they told me was that at their ages, 17 and 10, and as former strays who are problematic or needy, no shelter would consider taking them in, and I'd have a hard time finding anyone else who would, either.

They were kind enough to suggest something that was too late in this case, but that I'm glad to know about: many shelters are beginning to offer programs where you donate a certain amount of money and they guarantee to take your cats if anything happens to you. However, in this case, too late. The cats are living, right now, in the empty apartment, which is about two hours, one way, from us. Morning and evening, they have to be fed...

They are loving and affectionate cats who right now desperately need reassurance and affection. I promised my friend I'd see they were taken care of. I cannot just have them killed because there is no place in the world for them. I thought, once before in my life, that I knew what it was like to be "between a rock and a hard place". I was literally physically sick from the strain. And yet, I wasn't trapped as badly as I thought; I had no idea. This is what it means to be caught between a rock and a hard place.

I can't even think straight tonight, between my grief and my worry over the cats. I'd planned to post over the weekend, but of course that didn't happen. Until I can find an answer for those poor grieving cats (perhaps my greatest weakness is this: I can't stand seeing animals grieve; if I'd seen a pet of Hitler's grieving for him, I'd even have shed a few tears) I'm going to be too busy to blog. When I have an answer, I'm going to have to catch up on work...

There is only one exception: please come back in the next few days, because I will be making the time for one very important post - an update on Red's Book.