A lot of us like to think we're rebellious--as if there were something innately valuable in opposing whatever somebody else comes up with.
Intellectually, I know that's just as reflexive as slavishly following instructions.
But my gut has never gotten the message.
And in the last 24 hours, I've staged one of my frequent rebellions against myself. Having declared my ideal best life ruling principle at this site yesterday, I went home and was seized by all of my soft addictions nearly simultaneously: steady snacking all evening while turning through trashy magazines and then working crossword puzzles into the wee hours--I simply could not get myself to stop earlier and go to bed. Then of course I overslept hugely. And, worst of all, I indulged in beating up on myself.
Now none of this is so bad, obviously. Still. I'd like to feel I can stop. And an hour or two of those activities would have been plenty.
What happened is: the part of me that doesn't want anybody--including myself--telling me what to do got really fired up by my new ambitions.
The trick now is: to stay focused on my larger aim and outlast the rebellious part (I've been through this sort of thing a time or two before.) Will keep you posted.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
More on Soft Addiction
A few weeks ago I wrote here about a book I was reading, The Soft Addiction Solution, on the idea that lots of us zone out much of the time doing the same habitual stuff: the TV and chips, or any repetitive escapist activity.
What I like about the philosophy of this author, Judith Wright, is that she doesn't preach discipline, self-restraint, character, deprivation, etc.
Instead the idea is to make a more satisfying choice, at least some of the time. I'm all the way to step one of this process, which is to make one overall decision about how I want my life to be, so that I at least have the option of making my daily decisions in support of that big one.
For example, like Lance Armstrong's Live Strong mantra.
I had to think about it for a while before I came up with mine. In fact, as recommended, I "test-drove" it for a few weeks. I'm happy with my selection, which is: I am living my life as my best self. I'm sorry to say I'm not bold enough to put this in boldface. I take that back. I'm putting it in boldface AND ALL CAPS: I AM LIVING MY LIFE AS MY BEST SELF.
It's a pretty clarifying idea. And I pay attention to it some of the time. I'd say it has steered me away from a lot of fried food and to a couple of yoga classes--and made clear a few times that it was time to knock off work for the day and go home.
I'm excited about this. It works. Will keep you posted on the next step in this process.
What I like about the philosophy of this author, Judith Wright, is that she doesn't preach discipline, self-restraint, character, deprivation, etc.
Instead the idea is to make a more satisfying choice, at least some of the time. I'm all the way to step one of this process, which is to make one overall decision about how I want my life to be, so that I at least have the option of making my daily decisions in support of that big one.
For example, like Lance Armstrong's Live Strong mantra.
I had to think about it for a while before I came up with mine. In fact, as recommended, I "test-drove" it for a few weeks. I'm happy with my selection, which is: I am living my life as my best self. I'm sorry to say I'm not bold enough to put this in boldface. I take that back. I'm putting it in boldface AND ALL CAPS: I AM LIVING MY LIFE AS MY BEST SELF.
It's a pretty clarifying idea. And I pay attention to it some of the time. I'd say it has steered me away from a lot of fried food and to a couple of yoga classes--and made clear a few times that it was time to knock off work for the day and go home.
I'm excited about this. It works. Will keep you posted on the next step in this process.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Discernment
What's the bold action for this moment? By bold, I don't necessarily mean flamboyant or loud. I mean taking the most direct road to where I want to be--and doing it without obsessing over it or second-guessing myself.
Here's the moment in question: I'm suddenly depressed (since Friday morning), mysteriously losing too much hair, and have also lost a surprising amount of weight (7 lbs in a week and a half.) I expected to lose some weight because I was teaching writing at a fitness spa, Rancho La Puerta, for a week of that time. So I ate healthy and worked out a lot. But I didn't expect to lose that much.
At first I thought I was just having back-to-the-desk letdown. But that doesn't cause weight loss.
What I've done so far: checked with my hairdresser yesterday morning and found that she too noted some missing hairs, called my doctor, went in and got a thyroid blood test in the afternoon, am now waiting to hear from test in a couple of days. So far so good, on the boldness front.
Now it's Wednesday morning and my impulse is to lie down on the floor and close my eyes.
Is that the boldly effective move? Will it help? Or is it better to keep working?
Sometimes making the bold move isn't the hard part. Instead the trick is to figure out what that move is.
Buddhism teaches sticking to right thought, right speech, right action, etc. I'd like to have a sort of pocket calculator that tells in any given moment what the right move (or lack of move) is. But I haven't yet seen one in any of the gadget catalogs.
Here's the moment in question: I'm suddenly depressed (since Friday morning), mysteriously losing too much hair, and have also lost a surprising amount of weight (7 lbs in a week and a half.) I expected to lose some weight because I was teaching writing at a fitness spa, Rancho La Puerta, for a week of that time. So I ate healthy and worked out a lot. But I didn't expect to lose that much.
At first I thought I was just having back-to-the-desk letdown. But that doesn't cause weight loss.
What I've done so far: checked with my hairdresser yesterday morning and found that she too noted some missing hairs, called my doctor, went in and got a thyroid blood test in the afternoon, am now waiting to hear from test in a couple of days. So far so good, on the boldness front.
Now it's Wednesday morning and my impulse is to lie down on the floor and close my eyes.
Is that the boldly effective move? Will it help? Or is it better to keep working?
Sometimes making the bold move isn't the hard part. Instead the trick is to figure out what that move is.
Buddhism teaches sticking to right thought, right speech, right action, etc. I'd like to have a sort of pocket calculator that tells in any given moment what the right move (or lack of move) is. But I haven't yet seen one in any of the gadget catalogs.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Performance Anxiety
There are some yoga poses that are for me a reliable indicator of performance anxiety.
These are any that require balance on one foot.
When I do these at home, I can balance for long periods of time with no problem.
When I'm in a class with other people, I have a lot of trouble getting into equilibrium and staying that way. I'm never conscious of any audience effect in yoga classes-- but what else could cause this difference?
One thing I've learned that helps when I'm wobbly. The Sanskrit word for it is drishtee, roughly translated as "point of focus." That means find a spot to fasten your gaze on and don't look to the left or right.
When I do that, pretty soon I'm maintaining balance. The same principle applies to working on a novel: just focus on the work at hand.
(The photos are at Rancho La Puerta where I've been teaching: the sculpture in front of one of the yoga studios, the one of me taken on the grounds just after I finished with my last class. This is a good example of how we unconsciously reproduce what we see or visualize. I passed that sculpture every day, but didn't realize I had copied the pose, and even dressed the part.)
Friday, May 25, 2007
The Guts to Be First
(First a note about photos, etc. I'm on a Spanish-speaking computer and can't find some of the clicks. So I can't seem to move these the way I want. What's here: the swing under the Rancho pepper tree, a blossom that was growing beside me in the chi kung class, and a bit of BOLD ART in my room. And then the story....) 
Back then it took courage.
The couple that started the fitness spa in Baja where I'm teaching this week are an astonishing example of bold creative thinking. They were health nuts in 1940, with some ideas that are treated as news in recent years.
The place now called Rancho La Puerta welcomed its first visitors under the name Essene School of Life: "$17.50 a week, bring your own tent." (The Essenes were, among other things, highly successful farmers of antiquity, producing prodigious crops in poor Dead Sea area soil.)
Founder Prof. Edmond Szekely of Transylvania and his wife Deborah created what was in its early years the home of what the Prof called cosmotherapy, a regimen heavy on grape juice. He also believed that people need 20 minutes a day of direct sunlight for vitamin D, but that baking on a beach blanket is unhealthy. He was sure ahead of a lot of folks on that one.
A 1949 article in The San Diego Union reported that he kept a crystal ball in his study.
Szekely foresight also led to the school being an organic farm with a mainly vegetarian diet.
Today Deborah Szekely is still fit and active and inspiring, and still the grand dame. (The Prof died some years ago.) Grape arbors are still here, visible through a glass wall of the yoga gym. And the food remains largely vegetarian.
Now it costs a bit more than $17.50 and there's no need to pack a tent. The garden campus has enough Mexican-style cottages to house about 160 people, attending classes on mainstream topics like writing and Pilates.
And nobody thinks it's odd any more to eat a lot of vegetables or to drink the fruit of the vine for high anti-oxidant levels or to avoid skin cancer by limiting sun-time.
A fair number of people are comfortable with the idea of a crystal ball.
Back then it took courage.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The School of Life
TECATE, Mexico---This week I'm teaching writing at the health and fitness spa Rancho La Puerta in the mountains of Baja.
The guiding principle of this place is to help make healthy people healthier. Hikes go up the mountains (seriously up) starting at 6 every morning. And there are six or ten different classes going almost every hour from 9 until late afternoon. Most are about physical fitness: dance, yoga, that sort of thing.
In the afternoons classes focus on mind and spirit, to add to the body part of the equation. These are referred to on the schedule as the school of life, and include such topics as bird-watching, introductory Spanish, meditation, how to get the most out of a nap, etc.
This is my fifth time spending a week teaching here, and I love the place. When I'm not on duty, I feel as if I'm enrolled in the school of "improved self" and the process is delightful. (The gyms are charming, which I didn't think was possible--stone and tiles and good art and glass walls with views of gardens. Pictures to come.)
When I'm home, I do work out, but certainly not hours a day. In fact, I was once accused by a significant other of being interested in nothing but words and ideas. (Not so. But it was indeed true that I'm not interested in watching ballgames on TV.)
In any event, it's a huge shift to go from most days spent at my desk, to yesterday's cardio boxing, my first such experience, followed by this morning's 3.5 mile hike, exactly one half of that uphill.
The change--such an immersion in physical activity--feels invigorating. It feels bold. For the moment, I'm a new woman, and enjoying it.
The guiding principle of this place is to help make healthy people healthier. Hikes go up the mountains (seriously up) starting at 6 every morning. And there are six or ten different classes going almost every hour from 9 until late afternoon. Most are about physical fitness: dance, yoga, that sort of thing.
In the afternoons classes focus on mind and spirit, to add to the body part of the equation. These are referred to on the schedule as the school of life, and include such topics as bird-watching, introductory Spanish, meditation, how to get the most out of a nap, etc.
This is my fifth time spending a week teaching here, and I love the place. When I'm not on duty, I feel as if I'm enrolled in the school of "improved self" and the process is delightful. (The gyms are charming, which I didn't think was possible--stone and tiles and good art and glass walls with views of gardens. Pictures to come.)
When I'm home, I do work out, but certainly not hours a day. In fact, I was once accused by a significant other of being interested in nothing but words and ideas. (Not so. But it was indeed true that I'm not interested in watching ballgames on TV.)
In any event, it's a huge shift to go from most days spent at my desk, to yesterday's cardio boxing, my first such experience, followed by this morning's 3.5 mile hike, exactly one half of that uphill.
The change--such an immersion in physical activity--feels invigorating. It feels bold. For the moment, I'm a new woman, and enjoying it.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Rancho La Puerta
I'm off to teach writing for a week in a fabulous spa in Mexico called Rancho La Puerta. It is heaven on earth--pardon cliche, but got to pack. Will be in touch here soon.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
My Writing Office
Because of popular request, I've posted here the pictures of my newly feng-shuied office, which I wrote about several days back.
It feels about 20% larger than it did. Easier to find things too.
The mantel is now, at the direction of the office organizing person, a promotional center for my work, ("a shrine," she said), lining up books I've written and books that have something by or about me. The one tucked in at the very end that appears to have been published by an elementary school student is a mockup I made of my still-in-revision novel Cobalt Blue. I take visualization of the finished product very seriously.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Grant News in the Form of Rejection
I just now found out that I didn't get a grant I'd have loved to have.
The odds were tremendously against my getting it. Intellectually, I didn't expect it to happen.
Even so-- Pooey!!
On the other hand, I learned recently this encouraging bit of information: many grant sources won't award an applicant until they've applied at least two or three times.
My experience in winning these things is a mix: one fellowship took about ten tries to get (and that means ten YEARS), one took two tries, and, thrillingly, I got a couple of others with my first application. Actually they were all pretty thrilling when the answer was finally yes.
I suppose I could code it as a form of boldness, of creative courage, to apply to the same people more than ten times. In any event, it finally worked.
I've only applied for this grant once. So maybe next year--or in 2017.
The odds were tremendously against my getting it. Intellectually, I didn't expect it to happen.
Even so-- Pooey!!
On the other hand, I learned recently this encouraging bit of information: many grant sources won't award an applicant until they've applied at least two or three times.
My experience in winning these things is a mix: one fellowship took about ten tries to get (and that means ten YEARS), one took two tries, and, thrillingly, I got a couple of others with my first application. Actually they were all pretty thrilling when the answer was finally yes.
I suppose I could code it as a form of boldness, of creative courage, to apply to the same people more than ten times. In any event, it finally worked.
I've only applied for this grant once. So maybe next year--or in 2017.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
"Soft Addictions"
I thought I'd recovered from last week's sudden end of the semester of teaching. But no.
Now I'm not sure if it's Duke withdrawal or caffeine (too much or too little.) In either case, my head, if not my spirits, is light.
I suspect caffeine. My wicked near-constant sweet iced tea habit.
Speaking of which-- I'm in the process of reading a book called The Soft Addiction Solution. Pardon the cliche, but it's an eye-opener. Not that I don't know about my harmless calming strategies: the nights with trashy magazines, the tea, the crossword puzzles even at red lights. What's new to me in this book is a way of reclaiming some of that time for conscious life, not through deprivation at all, but through a focus on something more inspiring.
Of course I ate chocolate cookies while I was reading about this. Nonetheless, I see a door opening before me in this book. I like the fact that it doesn't suggest giving anything up.
Now I'm not sure if it's Duke withdrawal or caffeine (too much or too little.) In either case, my head, if not my spirits, is light.
I suspect caffeine. My wicked near-constant sweet iced tea habit.
Speaking of which-- I'm in the process of reading a book called The Soft Addiction Solution. Pardon the cliche, but it's an eye-opener. Not that I don't know about my harmless calming strategies: the nights with trashy magazines, the tea, the crossword puzzles even at red lights. What's new to me in this book is a way of reclaiming some of that time for conscious life, not through deprivation at all, but through a focus on something more inspiring.
Of course I ate chocolate cookies while I was reading about this. Nonetheless, I see a door opening before me in this book. I like the fact that it doesn't suggest giving anything up.
Monday, May 07, 2007
After Deadline
So the semester ended Friday.
Saturday I spent on the sofa with a novel, a book of crossword puzzles, and a lot of chocolate cookies. Sounds blissful, exactly what I'd looked forward to--but it wasn't. Instead it was like the days after finishing a draft of a book; theoretically, I feel released. But in fact, I feel foggy, emotionally flat, and irritable.
Sunday was better. I ran some errands, planted a bed of impatiens, stayed awake all day, congratulated myself on having that much energy.
Today, Monday, I'm back at my desk. The work version of post-deadline is: all those little things I was expecting to be eager to catch up on, I'm not. Not eager at all. Any sane person reading this is probably thinking: take a day off! But I don't feel like it. Not eager to do that either.
This mood (which feels chemical/physiological) will pass in another day or so. Most likely by tomorrow. The transition has always taken three days in the past. You'd think I'd learn.
If I did learn, what would I do differently? Probably nothing different. Maybe these periods simply have to be weathered.
I welcome ideas, if anyone knows how to better manage this sort of thing.
Saturday I spent on the sofa with a novel, a book of crossword puzzles, and a lot of chocolate cookies. Sounds blissful, exactly what I'd looked forward to--but it wasn't. Instead it was like the days after finishing a draft of a book; theoretically, I feel released. But in fact, I feel foggy, emotionally flat, and irritable.
Sunday was better. I ran some errands, planted a bed of impatiens, stayed awake all day, congratulated myself on having that much energy.
Today, Monday, I'm back at my desk. The work version of post-deadline is: all those little things I was expecting to be eager to catch up on, I'm not. Not eager at all. Any sane person reading this is probably thinking: take a day off! But I don't feel like it. Not eager to do that either.
This mood (which feels chemical/physiological) will pass in another day or so. Most likely by tomorrow. The transition has always taken three days in the past. You'd think I'd learn.
If I did learn, what would I do differently? Probably nothing different. Maybe these periods simply have to be weathered.
I welcome ideas, if anyone knows how to better manage this sort of thing.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
My 200th Post--School's Out
I'm about to finish doing the grading for my semester of teaching fiction writing at Duke. So it feels right that this entry is an auspicious round number.
Grading is tough in a creative writing course, as every writer/teacher knows.
I do have a system, but there is an unavoidably subjective element. I'm giving it my best judgment, no doubt, overthinking it--not much else I can do.
I'm also startled to discover that I'm losing these people I've focused on so intensely these last four months. I'm not used to this; it's a long time since I dealt with a graduation or last day at summer camp. I'm not jaded, to put it mildly. I'll be watching for their books forever.
At the same time, my schedule will be my own again. I don't mind that part at all. Also, I'll be chatting at this location more frequently than I have this semester. Let me know if I've gotten over-didactic.
Grading is tough in a creative writing course, as every writer/teacher knows.
I do have a system, but there is an unavoidably subjective element. I'm giving it my best judgment, no doubt, overthinking it--not much else I can do.
I'm also startled to discover that I'm losing these people I've focused on so intensely these last four months. I'm not used to this; it's a long time since I dealt with a graduation or last day at summer camp. I'm not jaded, to put it mildly. I'll be watching for their books forever.
At the same time, my schedule will be my own again. I don't mind that part at all. Also, I'll be chatting at this location more frequently than I have this semester. Let me know if I've gotten over-didactic.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Gutsy Writer: The Photo
Here's the picture of novelist Lionel Shriver promised in the previous post. Her books have the kind boldness that you'd expect of someone who, at age fifteen, changed her name to Lionel from Margaret Ann.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Lionel Shriver: One Gutsy Writer
Recently I've fallen in love with the work of novelist Lionel Shriver. So has much of the rest of the world. I wish I'd known about her novels long ago.
With her seventh and eighth novels, she has finally gotten big-time attention: bestsellerdom, a huge feature in The New York Times, book tour of New Zealand, etc.
NB: big success came with her 7th and 8th published novels. And she said her former agent refused to handle the seventh one and so she sent it out herself.
A+ for ENORMOUS PERSISTENCE. (Also, for quality in writing, insights, and plots.)
The two books that have finally brought her much-deserved attention are We Need to Talk About Kevin and The Post-Birthday World.
Both these books feel so honest that they seem skinless, exposing bare nerve endings.
I went to hear her read a week or so ago at Raleigh's Quail Ridge Books (turns out she spent much of her youth in my town and I interviewed her father a time or two for The Raleigh Times.) I asked her if she'd always been so bold as a writer or had she developed that courage over time.
She seemed genuinely baffled: "That's what writing is for," she said, "to SAY THE UNSAID." She wondered aloud: What are other writers doing? (boldface and caps are all mine)
And another thing: as the Times pointed out, she isn't exactly groveling over success. The head on the story: "After Lean Times, Prizes and Not One Apology." The Times referred to The Guardian (she lives in England) as saying that she had "violated the British law of self-deprecation by boldly declaring that she had WANTED HER BOOK TO WIN" the Orange Prize, which it did indeed win.
Do we ever really believe that someone doesn't want his or her book to win?
From henceforth I hold her work (including the PR wing) before me as a shining example, and will post here in the next couple of days a picture I took at her Quail Ridge reading.
With her seventh and eighth novels, she has finally gotten big-time attention: bestsellerdom, a huge feature in The New York Times, book tour of New Zealand, etc.
NB: big success came with her 7th and 8th published novels. And she said her former agent refused to handle the seventh one and so she sent it out herself.
A+ for ENORMOUS PERSISTENCE. (Also, for quality in writing, insights, and plots.)
The two books that have finally brought her much-deserved attention are We Need to Talk About Kevin and The Post-Birthday World.
Both these books feel so honest that they seem skinless, exposing bare nerve endings.
I went to hear her read a week or so ago at Raleigh's Quail Ridge Books (turns out she spent much of her youth in my town and I interviewed her father a time or two for The Raleigh Times.) I asked her if she'd always been so bold as a writer or had she developed that courage over time.
She seemed genuinely baffled: "That's what writing is for," she said, "to SAY THE UNSAID." She wondered aloud: What are other writers doing? (boldface and caps are all mine)
And another thing: as the Times pointed out, she isn't exactly groveling over success. The head on the story: "After Lean Times, Prizes and Not One Apology." The Times referred to The Guardian (she lives in England) as saying that she had "violated the British law of self-deprecation by boldly declaring that she had WANTED HER BOOK TO WIN" the Orange Prize, which it did indeed win.
Do we ever really believe that someone doesn't want his or her book to win?
From henceforth I hold her work (including the PR wing) before me as a shining example, and will post here in the next couple of days a picture I took at her Quail Ridge reading.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
On Taking a Stand
Be bold, but be impeccable.
I heard a speaker at a seminar last spring advise that. I think it was Katie Orenstein, a writer of op-ed opinion pieces among other things. She attributed the line to her mother-in-law.
It's a fine piece of wisdom, if you're inclined to be impetuous.
I spend too much time on impeccability. Quadruple-checking does me more harm than good. I'd like to work out a good balance. Oh hell, a perfect balance--that's what I'd really like.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Make It Legible
Last week a "room redesigner," Julie Tomlin of Raleigh/Cary, spent three and a half hours in my office and when I returned in early afternoon, the place had been transformed.
She didn't add anything or take anything away. Instead, she shuffled and restacked and consolidated, and now it seems as if the room has come into focus. And I feel as clearly located and defined as if I were sitting on top of a float in a parade.
A doctor I know has the clearest handwriting I've ever seen. It's like an architect's printing. He said he made it that way on purpose. It was a way to say: here I am, here's what I'm prescribing, and I stand by it.
I don't think doctors' reputedly messy handwritings are by design a way to hide. But it has crossed my mind before that my own might be a form of privacy. Nobody's every going to be prying into my bits and pieces of handwritten journal. It wouldn't be worth the effort to decipher.
All of which is to say that: making things clean and clear is a way of declaring one's self. Of standing by who and what we are.
She didn't add anything or take anything away. Instead, she shuffled and restacked and consolidated, and now it seems as if the room has come into focus. And I feel as clearly located and defined as if I were sitting on top of a float in a parade.
A doctor I know has the clearest handwriting I've ever seen. It's like an architect's printing. He said he made it that way on purpose. It was a way to say: here I am, here's what I'm prescribing, and I stand by it.
I don't think doctors' reputedly messy handwritings are by design a way to hide. But it has crossed my mind before that my own might be a form of privacy. Nobody's every going to be prying into my bits and pieces of handwritten journal. It wouldn't be worth the effort to decipher.
All of which is to say that: making things clean and clear is a way of declaring one's self. Of standing by who and what we are.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Big Two-Hearted River
That's a Hemingway title and I think it fits. A week and a half ago, my brother Franc had a scary bout of heart bypass surgery. Today we learn that my other brother (and Franc's identical twin) Harry has to have the same operation. Tomorrow morning.
Harry's doctor has the advantage of knowing about Franc's identical heart. That will probably mean one less incision. Also, Harry saw up-close the shape Franc was in during the days just after the surgery, so he knows exactly what he's in for. Otherwise, it'll be the same--attaching him to the heart-lung machine, cutting open his chest, stopping his heart, sewing in new vessels taken from pieces of vein in his arms, the whole terrifying miraculous ball game.
It'll go fine. Franc's doing well, so Harry will too. It cannot be otherwise, their lives and hearts are so entwined.
Here are a couple of pictures of them, working at the house they built with friends on the NC coast. Not good photography, but this is the best I have available this minute, and now is when I'm posting. Franc on the left, Harry on the right, .
Monday, March 26, 2007
Neighborhood Witches, Psychic Aunties and Spiritualist Grandmothers
I'm looking for true stories about people like Miss Chant, the subject of my biography in progress.
The title of the post pretty well sums up the category. If you grew up knowing an older person in your community who was considered to have special powers and be a little strange, I'd love to hear from you. Please leave a comment here or email me at ppayne51@cs.com.
Thanks.
The title of the post pretty well sums up the category. If you grew up knowing an older person in your community who was considered to have special powers and be a little strange, I'd love to hear from you. Please leave a comment here or email me at ppayne51@cs.com.
Thanks.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Open Heart
Brother Franc had his heart operation early yesterday, didn't wake up last night. I drove halfway to the wrong town to teach this morning. Then at 10:30 at school I got word he'd opened his eyes, squeezed Mom's hand. I am so relieved.
Almost everybody comes through this operation. The survival rate is 98%. And yet it's so frightening. Maybe it's the fact of several large tubes coming out of holes in his chest and neck. How much worse this day would feel if the prognosis wasn't good, I can only imagine.
Elizabeth and John Edwards and their family are among the boldest of us today. Those folks have courage.
Almost everybody comes through this operation. The survival rate is 98%. And yet it's so frightening. Maybe it's the fact of several large tubes coming out of holes in his chest and neck. How much worse this day would feel if the prognosis wasn't good, I can only imagine.
Elizabeth and John Edwards and their family are among the boldest of us today. Those folks have courage.
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