Writing Pain - Tumblr Posts
Deep Thoughts and Moments in Time
So one of the reasons I finally signed up for Tumblr is that I felt the urge to write a few weeks ago. It had been a while since I really felt the pull, so I sat down one Saturday morning and lost myself in my keyboard for a minute.
I decided I wanted a place to post this. Dunno if I'm just up my own ass, or if anyone will actually read this, but I needed to get it down somewhere other than my own desktop.
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I was sitting at my desk this morning, drinking my coffee, not really reading the news, thinking about my doctor’s appointment that was yesterday morning, and the moments in time where our lives can be neatly divided into Before and After.
I hadn’t seen my PCP for a year and a half. She’s been my doc for a while, and she took a promotion a few years ago. Less time for appointments now, which means I see other doctors more often. Promotions can be a mixed bag, I get it.
I had some small stomach concern, and while wrapping things up I mentioned in passing a bump I had on my forehead. She examined it, and then told me she would need to refer me to a specialist, a dermatologist. Then she batted a term at me I’d never heard applied to me before. That it was some sorta pre-cancerous something or another.
Pre-cancerous
Pre-cancerous?
She didn’t look too concerned, and I’ve had moments in my life when I definitely concerned the medical people around me, so I’m fairly confident I know what it looks like. And like I said, the doc and I have known each other for a minute.
Almost certainly nothing. But I still found myself thinking about it this morning. And about moments in time when your life changes.
I assume we all have them, those moments. Mostly something that is recognized afterwards, looking back and realizing that your life was never quite the same.
As a middle-aged American in his fifties, I imagine I share some of them with a lot of folks. Challenger. 9/11. Take Down This Wall. Not Guilty. I Did Not Have Sex With That Woman. Bush/Gore.
There are others. I’m sure you get the idea.
Then there are the personal moments. Ones that are mostly not shared with anyone else, that must by necessity be processed alone, or mostly alone.
Mine are mostly negative, my past before I turned 40 mostly having been a mess, an often overwhelming tire fire of nasty little moments.
The first time(s) my father used each of his cute little nicknames for me that he now insists never happened. Worthless Bum. Boat Payment.
The first beer I ever had, when I was eight. Given to me by, of course, my father. One of the few childhood moments I have a clear memory of. Not knowing then that the next 30 years would be a slow, painful fight to put that beer down.
That first cigarette at 17, lying on a bed and watching the room spin. Another 30 year habit I had no idea I was starting. I could stop whenever I wanted, I was just bored.
It will be 32 years ago this September, but I can still close my eyes and see my son’s casket being lowered into the ground. That little white box, slowly disappearing.
When I was diagnosed with hypertension, in my mid-30’s. The gasps from the paramedic when he took my BP that first time. The way the nurse hurried from my hospital room to get a doc after taking it again. Asking that doctor what BP even meant, and when she explained it to me, trying to joke and ask what the record was.
She was not amused, told me the record was zero.
Marrying my son’s mother on my 40th birthday, almost 20 years after his death. Finally really accepting that there was at least one person I’d ever known who did not blame me.
Perhaps I’m wrong. Maybe we all don’t have those moments, or don’t take note of them. After all, I’m still processing that not everyone has an internal monologue. Being wrong is definitely my lane.
Will yesterday be one of those moments? Probably not. But as a first, it’s definitely one I would have preferred to have skipped.
I’m an overweight, hypertensive, anxiety/PTSD/depression-ridden, non-practicing alcoholic middle-aged man who smoked for 30 years. I’m almost certainly as healthy as I ever will be, and that is not terribly healthy.
Will I be able to recognize the moment when it all started falling apart health-wise? Has it already happened? Do I even want to recognize it, or would I prefer to walk that path not knowing I’m already on it? Quick fall, or a long slow slide? My wife's stepfather has been suffering with Alzheimer's and Parkinson's for 20 years. In a nursing home these days, he's absolutely miserable. Waiting to die. During the very few lucid moments he has these days, he makes it clear that he is wanting to die.
No one wants to spend two decades staring that in the face.
Heavy thoughts for a Saturday morning. Probably a bit too dramatic if we’re being frank.
My wife just got out of the shower, and she wants to go to Costco today.
Despite Deep Thoughts, the world does keep turning.
Tell your loved ones you love them, folks. You never know if it’ll be one of those moments in time for them.
Show Don't Tell - Symptoms vs. the Affliction
Another way to think of show don’t tell is to describe the symptoms rather than tell the affliction. You could say someone was close to fainting—or you could describe their symptoms and trust the readers to understand what they mean: the world swirled around her head, her ears beginning to hum lowly, then louder, increasing into a high-pitched ring. She took a deep breath, her stomach turning over itself. Etc.
Symptoms can also mean the lump in your throat as a “symptom” of being sad enough to cry, or the warmth of your face as a “symptom” of embarrassment.
That might sound a bit silly, but I find it really helpful when I’m reading over mine or others work and looking for those places where showing would be better than telling. Have you described the symptoms, or just told the affliction?
Here’s a short list of “afflictions” and their associated “symptoms” to get you started (but make sure to explore how different characters express different afflictions, even in more odd or unusual ways!)
Any symptoms I missed?
