A friend made a comment about Dreams . . . “I see you’re getting into politics.” And it woke me up, slightly. I just thought it was time to open up and explain . . .
I never intended Dreams to be political, but then the world is at a crossroads. It’s always at a crossroads of sorts. But today I have to take pause and act when I see something or someone I deem as special. And of course, anything can be justified . . .
Recently I have been avoiding everything that causes me to reflect, to sit and think . . . Except for things that keep me busy . . . So madly I’m scurrying around working on my house. Plumbing, electrical, drywall, you name it . . . Occasionally I write in my journal, but definitely I am avoiding any work on my novels. You see, I’m nervous . . . And when I get nervous I eat . . . Many drink spirits, it’s the same . . .
My son had/has CANCER . . . I’ve called him a survivor, though that may not be the case. It felt so good saying it . . . Thursday my son will have lung surgery . . . His MRI’s have detected a growth, a small growth. They want to remove a 3 centimeter portion of lung tissue and biopsy it. They say it may be nothing . . .
And they thought it would be wise to operate and physically examine his lungs . . . They tell me, they can feel growths better than see them . . . Lung CANCER, the typical prognosis after finding a sarcoma. And so, and so I’m worried . . .
I’ve grown cold to all feeling . . . And anyone that knows me or my writing can attest that I write with my emotions and so today I have to avoid what I love to do because I can’t go to that place where I write . . .
I will write again . . . This experience will not be wasted. You see, I was trying to distance myself enough to write my son’s story. My next book was going to be something from my youth, called “We Walk Alone”. It’s a story about growing up on the playground, around a ball and game. It’s a story of unlikely people coming together. It’s a story that I’ve needed to share for a long time . . . But now I just might have to move up Jordan’s Story . . . I call it, “This Side Of Midnight.” It’s fiction as all my novels are, but fiction is always dipped in truth . . .
What’s odd is I’m pulling back and my wife she is reaching out to family, friends, etc. And all I want to do is run and hide. And so come Wednesday, people from all over will flock to her side. And for me, I will be plagued with something as bad as locusts . . . I am a writer, my privacy is all important to me. But I can’t feel . . .
I have woken to her sobs and maybe a tear has flooded in my own eyes, but I remain steadfast . . .
Where have my tears gone? Still I won’t, I can’t let them in . . . I’m not one of those that is afraid of what people think. Hell I cry at movies. And thus, I know a few things . . . I know my son. He is strong. I must be strong for him. He is my baby boy. I raised him. We don’t have to say a word, because the other knows what the other is thinking. There is no way to hide our emotions from the other . . .
He’ll be in surgery for four hours. Last time they thought it was supposed to be twelve, it was eight.
The good news if you can call it that, they won’t have to spread his ribs, last time they cut enough of them out. He’ll stay in that cold dreadful place for five to seven days. And then they’ll tell us what the next step is . . .
He heals fast . . . Five to six weeks and then he’ll go through physical therapy . . . How he hates physical therapy, then maybe Chemo, again or Radiation?
But you know, just five years ago . . . We would have had no options . . . Just the big one.
Keep us in your prayers . . .
Dreams are yours to Share
Just Released . . . Sleepless Nights, AuthorHouse, 2007
A continuation of The World . . . through a poets eyes.
The World Outside My Window, AuthorHouse, 2004
Links: Dreams Are Yours To Share
Warriors and Wars
The Moon Also Rises
Dan’s Room 2 Write
Copyright © 2007 by Dan Hanosh. All rights reserved.
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