Drama

After this week’s drama, this will be a short blog, more like a comment than a post.  Mom’s knee replacement led to a pre op which led to a visit with a cardiologist which led to a nuclear stress test which led to an angiogram.  Which was the same test that led to Dad’s four-week stint in ICU after we were told he shouldn’t have survived the blockage and the heart attack that originally was supposed to have been a mild one but after the test, so wasn’t.  Which led to an emergency bypass which led to a code blue which led to everything else.  Typical Mom, when she got out of the cath lab and back to her recovery room, she said she didn’t want us GIRLS to go through that again.  Never mind what she had gone through.  Fortunatley in her case it was caught early enough to treat with medication, and was not in the main arteries that Dad’s blockages were.

Drama.  It sucks.  I much prefer a quiet, peaceful life without this kind of stress.  I didn’t go to work on Friday because I was too rattled, and because the night before the test I had a dream that I HAD gone to work, and was surrounded by my Team Lead, my Senior Reps, and my co-workers, even ones that no longer work there, all asking what the HELL I was doing there (my Team Lead’s exact words) and telling me what a terrible daughter I was.  So I called in, and felt much better being able to talk to the doctor face to face instead of having to get it secondhand in a text from my sister.

Drama.  When you’re a writer, it’s necessary.  Life doesn’t go by without it, and neither do books.  Books are never happy, happy, smile, smile all the time.  Or at least the ones you actually want to read aren’t.  You need drama and conflict and danger, or you have no audience.  You take your experiences and distill them into their core emotion, stir them up into your ink, and throw them on paper, even if you’re writing about alien vampire voodoo dolls.  As writers, we have the privilege of taking all that drama and writing it down and getting it out, even if it’s in a form that no one else will recognize.  It is a way to order thoughts, deal with emotion, scream without making a sound.  Many times it has been my only outlet, an outlet that I was grateful for.

Drama.  Yup, it’s there.  You can’t get rid of it.  I’ve had my share for a while though.  I’ll take the rest of my share in fiction, please.

Good writing, all.

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