It was the first time I got a whiff of what real bad anxiety might feel like. This version was different from the usual “down in the dumps.” Or, I did have an experience about 15 years ago where I felt so stressed that it felt like my skin crawled, so that would have been pretty close. This time in the ICU was terrible, though. I felt like I would not make it through the day, just lying there. The bed felt small, and as if there was no place to hide. When the rounds came, I would usually be pretty talkative, joke, and have a good time with the staff. Not this time. Having a crew forming a semi-circle around you and probe about your health when you are freaking was not great. I sat there wishing I could escape into the bathroom to hide, but the drainage tubes from my gut made any trip like that impossible. I was stuck in bed.
I hope you’re all doing well, and as usual, thanks for stopping by and reading.
I’ve been trying to post this new round of story for this whole week, but something kept coming up. Work, family business, my sleep. Gone are the days when I pulled all-nighters to get something done in a specific time. These days I am useless after 7 pm, or 19:00, as we say in Sweden.
Anyway, losing my voice was a pain in the A. At the time, now around seven (!) years ago, I probably walked around thinking about the parallels to Frank Zappa having his voice drop an octave due to an accident. I agreed to what he had said. Something along the lines of “having a low voice is nice, but I would have preferred a different way of acquiring it.” It was hard work to talk with my voice. At one point, two nurses came in to check my throat and see if they could help. They showed a bunch of instruments down my throat and into my nostrils, then proceeded to ask me polite questions about various things. They seemed oblivious to the fact that it was almost impossible for me to talk with my face full of metal rods.
Anyway, enough of my yammering. Thanks for coming here and reading.
Alright, I am back on track again. At least for the time being. Like I pointed out many times before in these posts: once I stopped keeping the tight schedule of publishing one of these installments every week, the productivity started slipping. Routine and discipline are my friends. I believe I already wrote that very sentence in an earlier post.
So, anyway. Things are moving forward. I am just now sending out this story to publishers to see if anybody wants to do the book version of this story. We’ll see. If not, I am self-publishing. Keep your fingers crossed.
As this life story certainly has made me brutally aware of mortality and the limited time we have here on earth, I am now experiencing that yet again as a close relative are having health issues. It is not so much the sadness of it happening, as witnessing up close the way we all will go. This once so powerful and vital person is now aging and losing their abilities to take care of themselves. That transformation is natural when I talk theoretically about it or hear about somebody else’s relative going through it. But with somebody close, the change is bizarre and shocking.
Nothing stops this train that we are all on. There are no stations to get off and take a break. All there is to do is to make the most of what we have. Is the ride a speedy white-knuckled chase, or a peaceful meandering through a beautiful and exciting landscape? While everyone goes home and thinks about that…
This part of the story is waking up after that severe surgery. I was blown away by how fast and easy it all went. I was nervous, rolling into the operation room. But I could not believe when I woke up what seemed like seconds later, and a nurse whispered, “you’re done” in my ear. In reality, eight or nine hours had passed.
I hope you’re all doing ok in these Covid-19 times. Stay healthy and sane!
We’re actually up at the moment of which it seems to be the point of this story. However, looking at the whole, it is of course about so many other things than the actual surgery. It would be correct to say that the operation spurred a whole slew of other things: Other obstacles, gains, wins, growths, pits of despair, frustrations, moments of happiness. I will stop before I start sounding like a cheesy self-help book (of which I have read plenty.)
I have several friends or acquaintances who, either have been through or are dealing with, serious health issues. My experiences have put me in touch with what that can mean, and I feel a special kinship with these people. Mortality is a hard, new reality to run up against and to honestly realize that our time is limited. At a certain point, no bargaining can change that. I always felt like any situation was negotiable in one way or the other. There was always a way to either negotiate with somebody to still get to do/experience/have whatever was at stake. You take some losses, but still get to play. You find a new route to it.
With mortality, there is not yet any negotiating. It does not matter what I pull out of my hat, how many losses I am willing to take, how much a promise. It’s a fucking end wall. To me, that is one depressing thought. And when I have thoughts like that, I have to find a way out.
ALIEN’S EYE VIEW
I just started following NASA, and some Space X related accounts on Instagram about a week ago. They popped up as suggestions, and I do think that stuff is fascinating. I figured it’d be an easy way to follow what is happening in that space (sorry for that unintended pun.) The other day there was a picture from one of the windows on Space X, showing a gorgeous view of Earth. Big fat clouds were swirling around it. It was the kind of back-out-from-my-personal-life that I find restful to look at when stressful thoughts close in too much on me. Back up, up, up. Get a bird’s perspective and see how small I am. How little we all are. How everything I do here, stress about here, is so tiny when compared to the big whole. Of course, you can tip over to the other end of the spectrum and, for the same reason, feel like nothing that you do indeed matter. Luckily I don’t have that problem. But if you do, I wish you the best of luck and advice you to talk about it with your friends. Or see a therapist if those thoughts get too overwhelming.
We don’t yet know what happens after we die either, so that is a whole world to explore in itself. It would be a great kicker to find out that the real party is happening on the other side of that fearful passageway. Similar to life, when you struggle to avoid something that seems scary or wrong. Only to discover that even if that something was as bad as you had imagined it, it got you to a better place afterward. A place you would never have gotten to had you not gone through the terrible experience you were just forced through. I guess I can’t stop sounding like a self-help person, no matter how hard I try. Maybe I’ll start a sect of some sort.
Anyway, thank you for coming here and reading this.
This week contains the 300th frame of this comic (the one pictured below). Pretty crazy, and it feels good to have produced so much work.
We are finally coming up to the time of the actual main surgery. I had no idea it’d take this long to get here telling this story, and going back reading previous episodes I feel like I was rushing through in some places. I look forward to editing this whole story for the making of the book. The process of making certain parts more clear and add frames here and there.
On another note, I currently read a book called “Monty Python Speaks.” It’s a book where they are asking questions to all the members of the group on different subject matters throughout their career. I get the impression that the answers were collected individually and at different times. I am a big fan, so it’s exciting for me to read about their creative process, the making of their TV shows and movies, how they developed together, and how they eventually grew apart. I love reading about other artists’ processes, their ups, and downs. Two things that I am always very interested in learning about are
1. How do you finance your work on your projects: do you work a bill paying job? If not, from where did you get money?
2. How do you find the time?
Needless to say, those are two of my ongoing challenges. If you work a job, it’s harder to find the time when you have the energy to work on your projects, and it’s not getting any easier as you get older – trust me! If you also have a family, to find the actual time can get very tricky too. I also realize that if I am being very determined about doing the hours and sit down or, in the case of music, go out to my garage studio, I feel guilty towards the kids! “Oh man, I should spend quality time with them instead.” I guess something has to give and one has to find a right balance and the process of that can get frustrating, to say the least.
Anyway, enough of my bitching. Again, thanks for stopping by and reading this. I very much appreciate it!