Being candid about your health can open a can of worms as others’ stories wriggle their, largely unwanted, way into the light.
Here’s my wriggling tale, for what it’s worth with apologies for its length…..
Firstly…..
A serious road traffic accident – fractured sternum and spine, post-traumatic stress, depression.
Earning my living by selling my artwork and poetry at events up and down the country was postponed. The day I came out of hospital I wrote my first short story and set myself the target of achieving something that I would never have achieved had I not had the accident. My aim was to win a decent literary award within two years and write a book. I was fortunate enough to achieve both – Cheshire Prize for Literature (first), Write Time (first), Welkin Prize (best new writer), Wrekin Prize (second), Henshaw Prize (third) and various other shortlistings/longlistings, plus poetry success with O’beal (third) Erbacce (longlist), Elmbridge (highly commended), et al. And my book ‘Devils in the Switchgrass’ comprises 30 of my sixty-odd short stories so far.
Secondly…..
Having regained strength I decided to exhibit at some local events and took my art work plus my new book to sell alongside my already popular ‘coffee-table’ book of poetry and images. All was set for my ‘comeback’. It felt good to be let loose upon the unsuspecting public again after such a long break.
In the night before the final day of the show, I experienced a severe pain in my left shoulder which refused to subside. I joked about a heart attack. Armed with painkillers and a ‘never say die’ attitude, I attended the the show determined to dose myself up later to enable me to reload my car more easily. I didn’t get that far. I collapsed with the intense pain and became unconscious and incontinent. I began to vomit and become hot then cold. An emergency ambulance whisked me off on ‘blues and twos’. It transpired I had not had a heart attack but overnight observation revealed a heart rate that kept dipping to 20 beats per minute plus unscheduled tea-breaks. I already had high blood pressure, an enlarged heart, AF, two leaking valves and probably a partridge in a pear tree but I now have a dinky little pacemaker as well, fitted the very next day. God bless the NHS for looking after me so swiftly and well. A month on and I now feel better than I’ve felt for years and my previously undiagnosed heart condition finally explains my car accident.
We can’t all be robust Hemingways but perhaps many writers are fragile, physically, mentally or both, which could explain their love of writing. Hang on though, wasn’t Hemingway seriously injured in the First World War and didn’t the trauma of that echo through his writing? Discuss under the following heading: The role of trauma in producing excellence in literature.
What an incredible attitude. Love to hear this positivity under the adversity. My wife is a champion of this approach and with her thyroid cancer, heart issues, seriously compromised immune system, she carries on with yoga, walking, exercising as she can, and a great positive approach to what life has presented to her. Good and bad. Attitude is everything. In writing and in life. I wish you the very best.
Chronic pain and serious illnesses too are life changing. Learning how to write in pain is challenging but there again Hilary mantel managed to do so ( and Thomas Cromwell was not the sympathetic commoner she describes in thousands of pages)
That is 'less than ideal', Ian, and I'm really sorry to hear it. But you've got a great attitude. All we can do is live the best life we can NOW, and not get caught up in the net of 'perfect/brilliant/amazing' etc. - including those xmas roundups where everyone in their family has achieved INCREDIBLE things without any 'reality'!!! And surely writing is about those difficult subtleties of life... which actually make it worth living....
Being candid about your health can open a can of worms as others’ stories wriggle their, largely unwanted, way into the light.
Here’s my wriggling tale, for what it’s worth with apologies for its length…..
Firstly…..
A serious road traffic accident – fractured sternum and spine, post-traumatic stress, depression.
Earning my living by selling my artwork and poetry at events up and down the country was postponed. The day I came out of hospital I wrote my first short story and set myself the target of achieving something that I would never have achieved had I not had the accident. My aim was to win a decent literary award within two years and write a book. I was fortunate enough to achieve both – Cheshire Prize for Literature (first), Write Time (first), Welkin Prize (best new writer), Wrekin Prize (second), Henshaw Prize (third) and various other shortlistings/longlistings, plus poetry success with O’beal (third) Erbacce (longlist), Elmbridge (highly commended), et al. And my book ‘Devils in the Switchgrass’ comprises 30 of my sixty-odd short stories so far.
Secondly…..
Having regained strength I decided to exhibit at some local events and took my art work plus my new book to sell alongside my already popular ‘coffee-table’ book of poetry and images. All was set for my ‘comeback’. It felt good to be let loose upon the unsuspecting public again after such a long break.
In the night before the final day of the show, I experienced a severe pain in my left shoulder which refused to subside. I joked about a heart attack. Armed with painkillers and a ‘never say die’ attitude, I attended the the show determined to dose myself up later to enable me to reload my car more easily. I didn’t get that far. I collapsed with the intense pain and became unconscious and incontinent. I began to vomit and become hot then cold. An emergency ambulance whisked me off on ‘blues and twos’. It transpired I had not had a heart attack but overnight observation revealed a heart rate that kept dipping to 20 beats per minute plus unscheduled tea-breaks. I already had high blood pressure, an enlarged heart, AF, two leaking valves and probably a partridge in a pear tree but I now have a dinky little pacemaker as well, fitted the very next day. God bless the NHS for looking after me so swiftly and well. A month on and I now feel better than I’ve felt for years and my previously undiagnosed heart condition finally explains my car accident.
We can’t all be robust Hemingways but perhaps many writers are fragile, physically, mentally or both, which could explain their love of writing. Hang on though, wasn’t Hemingway seriously injured in the First World War and didn’t the trauma of that echo through his writing? Discuss under the following heading: The role of trauma in producing excellence in literature.
Thanks for you own candid sharing, Glyn. Hear, hear re the NHS. I have a friend who also says a pacemaker changed her life...
Ian,
What an incredible attitude. Love to hear this positivity under the adversity. My wife is a champion of this approach and with her thyroid cancer, heart issues, seriously compromised immune system, she carries on with yoga, walking, exercising as she can, and a great positive approach to what life has presented to her. Good and bad. Attitude is everything. In writing and in life. I wish you the very best.
Thanks David.
Chronic pain and serious illnesses too are life changing. Learning how to write in pain is challenging but there again Hilary mantel managed to do so ( and Thomas Cromwell was not the sympathetic commoner she describes in thousands of pages)
That is 'less than ideal', Ian, and I'm really sorry to hear it. But you've got a great attitude. All we can do is live the best life we can NOW, and not get caught up in the net of 'perfect/brilliant/amazing' etc. - including those xmas roundups where everyone in their family has achieved INCREDIBLE things without any 'reality'!!! And surely writing is about those difficult subtleties of life... which actually make it worth living....
Thanks Zanna.