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Just my luck literary pursuits can bring about a whole series of dangerous maladies “Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness.” — George Orwell The Roller Coaster It’s been a full 10 months since I seriously took on this writing journey. The addition definitely filled in the last bit of available time. Just in the last few weeks, I doubled my efforts, while noticing some new health issues. As usual for me, living leads and informs the writing, a story idea appeared. Doing some research, some of the findings have been troubling, to say the least. Franz Kafka apparently put himself through both physical and emotional turmoil while trying to write. His work took 10 hours out of his day leaving little time for writing. All the activities he jammed in pushed him to the verge of collapse. In a weakened state he unfortunately contracted Tuberculosis which lead to his throat swelling until it closed. He died. Leo Tolstoy of War and Peace fame, suffered from depression. As he aged and his questions became more serious about inquiries into the human condition, the debilitating depressive episodes worsened. He died shortly after collapsing at a desolate train station. And then, there are all the suicides to consider. Hunter S Thompson, Virginia Woolf, Earnest Hemingway, and many more. What is it about seemingly innocuous writing that can create depression and suicide? My own issues have seemed to pop up since taking writing seriouslyContinue Reading

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Liver disease kills approximately 90,000 people each year in the USA don’t be one of them.   “You will find, Brumm,” said Earl Lavender, “that one of two things must be sacrificed by every man who lives to be over sixty — the mind, or the liver.” ― John Davidson The Trauma of Life Just a few years ago life educated me on Liver function through a painful experience, the loss of my only sibling. A beautiful bright whimsical girl, who had helped me through 53 years of life, gave me an opportunity to watch her die. The call came from my Mother informing me that Carrie had been admitted to the hospital. Sadly, none of us seemed to get it at that time, how sick she was. Even though everyone now seemed to notice that they had thought she seemed discolored, her skin losing it’s rose glow even 6 months earlier. It was serious, they were keeping her. Weeks went by with me calling from 2300 miles away asking for reports and talking to her on the phone. Soon, she was available to be on the phone less and less. My Mom finally said, if you want to see her again, you better come now. They had flown her to a hospital in Madison, Wisconsin, rumored to be skilled at helping with livers. And made the doctors there made it a practice to help even those that could be alcohol related. Or so they told my Mother. So, IContinue Reading