I’ve been struggling again with the question of what do I want this journal to be about. How much of my life do I want to put out there for anyone and everyone to read. I remember Jane Yolen writing about her husband’s illness…and as I peered into her life at that time I wondered if I could ever be so open about my own life. I’m a writer, and this LJ should be about my life as a writer…that was my original intention.
But my life as a writer often gets intertwined with my life as a wife, mom, friend, neighbor, person… that it’s sometimes hard to separate that out. I remember when my kids were little, I would get up between 5 and 6 every morning to write because I needed to get my writing in and sometimes that was the only time I could do it. During that period of my life, my entire day seemed dictated by how the writing had gone. If the writing had gone well, the day that followed went well. If the writing hadn’t gone well, then watch out for Mom!
They didn’t end up doing the biopsy on my husband’s lymph node the other day. The specialist we saw didn’t think it was lymphoma or anything else along that line, so he’s sending us for a CT scan on Monday to see exactly what is swollen in there. Bottom line…he doesn’t think it’s anything serious.
I never really thought it was…my husband hasn’t had any other symptoms of lymphoma (believe me, obsessive researcher that I am, I looked up the symptoms!). But HE was worried. And eventually it hit me…I’ve known this man since just before I turned 17! He wasn’t my first boyfriend, but he was my first love. We got married when I was 20. I don’t know life without him. And all of a sudden, it hit me: there really could be life without him at some point. Not now (please, not NOW!)…but sometime. And if that day comes, it’ll be my writing that gets me through it.