I’ve done it. After five painstaking months, I’ve completed the third draft of “Thank God for Cancer” (formerly My Cancer Story). If you’re a consistent reader of mine, you’ve likely noticed my absence from the blog. Now that I’m a Writer’s PA (first on Ratched, now on 9-1-1), finding free time is hard, especially when I was knee-deep into the hardest draft of any piece of written work I’ve attempted in my life.
As busy as I had proved to be, I wanted to do more to help others who were currently fighting their own cancer battles. It was another reason for my existence beyond those four colorless walls, and yes, it satiated my Survivor’s Guilt– but I personally wouldn’t be the same if it weren’t for my visitor, Mitch. And sure enough there was only one thing holding me back; I thought that oh too toxic thought: “I don’t know how.”
Luckily, I was asked by one of my former nurses to speak to a patient that was upstairs combating the children’s version of Leukemia, ALL. I had a brief moment of pause, not because she asked me to do it, but I wondered how I would navigate such a conversation with a fifteen-year-old. I was almost twenty-five, and I felt too far removed from my childhood. Then I thought of Tori, the girl in the hospital that was from Presque Isle. I seemed to talk with her just fine, and she was only fifteen then, so I decided to keep it simple. After my lapse in judgment, I said, “Yes, I’ll meet David.”
With every receding tide in my life, there was almost certainly a complementary wave rushing back from the horizon. In the most serene moments of my holiday break, I felt the resurgence of my impending doom. As I lied in bed one night, in pitch-blackness (as how Deirdre and I preferred to sleep), I thought of death and the finality of it. I had narrowly escaped a sudden end a few times before, and I knew that no matter what I accomplished or how long I lived, it was inevitable.
The New England School of Communications was the perfect school for me. Here, I could actually rent film equipment out like expensive library books, and make the movies that I’d been literally dreaming about since I was a kid. Of course, I didn’t think those ideas feasible back then, but thankfully, I made sure to at least jot them down in the moment!
In an effort to bolster my success, I took out some money against my retirement plan at EMMC and bought a brand new MacBook Pro laptop. And with the remainder of my student loans, I purchased the Final Cut Studio Suite (with the state-of-the-art Final Cut Pro 7), Microsoft Office 2010, and an Adobe Creative Suite that included Photoshop, Premiere, Illustrator, and many more.
I decided to spend the remnants of the student loans only if it was to better my studies during school and what better to spend my money on than the actual programs I would use in school? This way, I could maximize my time to work on assignments from home.
Ah snowstorms, you never know how early they would strike during “fall.” Maine’s fall lasted around one to one and a half months and our winters sustained for sometimes, half a year. If you wanted to live in Maine during the winter, then endurance was the key to survival.
There’s something pristine about the bitterness of our winters. After this phase of death, comes a rebirth, a renewal of the beauty of nature. But winter itself is as immaculate as it is destructive. A thick silvery blanket shrouds everything in sight as if it’s coddling the world, preparing it for the coming months.
In this epoch of rebirth came time for Travis and me to go it alone. We wanted to break off and find a place that we could share without sharing a single room. Deirdre and I were spending more time together, and Travis and his girlfriend were still going strong, so it was important to let our surroundings foster those relationships (and ours with each other).
My love for video games had been waning over the past few months. All I wanted to play was Smash Bros., but no matter what, I wasn’t feeling like playing the overall medium as much. I tried; actively, to reinvigorate this past time but in the end, I was searching for a more creative channel. My writing itch had returned with a vengeance, and I was looking for an outlet. I had actually considered co-hosting a weekly video game show with Kyle on YouTube to marry the two elements of my life, but that never came into existence.
Regardless, that didn’t stop me from finding some way to articulate and further improve my written voice. The first thing that came to mind was to at least come into more money to free up more of my creative hours (an easy feat, no doubt). If I could get rid of that dreadful hospital job, then I would be set to properly foster my writing.
Travis had expressed an interest in making more money, and I had informed him of a position that opened up at Eastern Maine Medical Center in the kitchen with me; it was a different shift than mine, but there were a few hours of overlap. I feared I would trap him into leading down the same occupational line that I had once worked. Actually, so far he had: Potato Harvest, a few weeks at MBNA, Subway, and now EMMC. What was I doing to this poor boy?! The only two outliers he had were McDonald’s and a call center company called Sitel. Nevertheless, I wanted more for him (and admittedly, for myself).
It’s a good thing that this job was also close to home as winter, in particular, had been somewhat harsh as snow accumulated earlier than usual and the wind whipped through you, not just at you.
