The Blank Page...

You know, it's tough enough being a writer, but right now?  Being a writer is almost impossible.  It's so hard to focus.  I'm still working on the flu story... at least the research end.  The working title is still "The Pestilential Adventures of Mrs. Osgood Peabody," but when it comes to thinking of what the actual title should be, I'm kind of at a loss.  Originally, I intended to have zombies in it... well... not real zombies, more like people having an weird interaction with high fevers and a new antiviral medication but... I can't make that work, so... I think I'll just play up the "return of the 1918 pandemic but worse" angle. 

Still, it's difficult to find the energy to work on it.  I spend so much time worried over the Husbandly One, trying to get him to eat, or trying to help him over the next hurdle, that I have very little left over for writing.  Even fanfiction is difficult right now.

I spent a great deal of last night crying, but that's basically my emotional settings rebooting, you know?  I cry, and cry, and get it out of my system, and then I feel better.  I absolutely hate crying, though. 

But writing.  I need to be writing.  I really, really, really need to be writing.  Because writing is what I do and what I love and... I need to do this, for me and for him.  To show him that his faith in me has not been in vain.  I need to do this. 

I need to do this.

So... get over yourself and JUST FUCKING WRITE!

I'm Trying Not To Be A Wuss, But I Don't Think It's Working...

He's so damn thin.  I don't even want to speculate with how much he weighs.  His appetite is almost nonexistent, and warring with that is the  "don't waste food" mentality we were brought up with by our Depression era parents.

He thinks, "I can't eat an entire chicken pot pie, even though I want one.  And if I don't eat it, it will go to waste.  Therefore, I will not eat a chicken pot pie, so I won't waste the food."

He hasn't said that, but I'm pretty sure that's part of what's wandering through his head somewhere.

I had to change that mentality myself, especially over the last year.  And most especially where he's concerned.  So he can't eat an entire chicken pot pie, I'm just thrilled he ate some of it, you know?  Maybe I should do what I did with my mom when her appetite was decreasing.  You know, instead of cajoling her to eat, I would make a sandwich and say, "Oh, you know what, Mom?  I can't eat this whole sandwich by myself.  You want half?"

And because she grew up during the Depression, there was no way she was going to let that half of a sandwich go to waste, so she'd shrug and say, "Might as well."  And we'd sit there and eat our half of a sandwich and smile, and inside, I was cheering because hot damn, I got calories in her!

I just need to be even sneakier than usual, because he's always on to me.

Maybe that will take my mind off the thought of losing the love of my life way before I'm ready.  I'm really scared.  We go see the oncologist on Monday, and we'll see what we see.

I should probably go back to the doctor myself.  My ear is still bothering me.  It's kind of hard to focus on me right now, though.

I'm tired.  I'm hungry.  I'm scared.  And... I feel pretty alone right now.