A person
very close to me is dying, suddenly and horribly. (We are all dying, of course,
which I remind myself nearly every day, but strange creatures that we humans
are, we react mostly to the suddenness and
horribleness of things, and are peculiarly offended when mortality strikes
close to home, even while knowing that in the world at large, mortality is
striking literally every second, somewhere.)
very close to me is dying, suddenly and horribly. (We are all dying, of course,
which I remind myself nearly every day, but strange creatures that we humans
are, we react mostly to the suddenness and
horribleness of things, and are peculiarly offended when mortality strikes
close to home, even while knowing that in the world at large, mortality is
striking literally every second, somewhere.)
But that is
personal, and hard to discuss, even parenthetically.
personal, and hard to discuss, even parenthetically.
So I begin
– I must begin – with ants.
– I must begin – with ants.
Not one but
three different species are running wild in our new apartment. Of course, we did decide to move to the tropics
(Tuxtla Gutierrez, Chiapas, Mexico). I was always aware, as an Alaskan, that
one benefit of our colder climes is how few bugs we deal with on a daily basis,
further noth.
three different species are running wild in our new apartment. Of course, we did decide to move to the tropics
(Tuxtla Gutierrez, Chiapas, Mexico). I was always aware, as an Alaskan, that
one benefit of our colder climes is how few bugs we deal with on a daily basis,
further noth.
It could be
worse. In rural Taiwan we had an even bigger problem: an entire nest of ants
that had taken over some drawers inside our bed. Individual biting ants ran
over my body, night after night, before we discovered the nest. When we did
discover the nest, after many sleepless nights, and dragged the drawers outside
(but not quite far enough), thousands spilled out and swarmed us, and the outer
walls of our home, trying to run back inside. For a few brief but horrifying,
slow-motion moments, ants which had crawled onto a porch overhang were raining
down on us, as we stomped and screamed and brushed away the biting bodies.
worse. In rural Taiwan we had an even bigger problem: an entire nest of ants
that had taken over some drawers inside our bed. Individual biting ants ran
over my body, night after night, before we discovered the nest. When we did
discover the nest, after many sleepless nights, and dragged the drawers outside
(but not quite far enough), thousands spilled out and swarmed us, and the outer
walls of our home, trying to run back inside. For a few brief but horrifying,
slow-motion moments, ants which had crawled onto a porch overhang were raining
down on us, as we stomped and screamed and brushed away the biting bodies.
Can an
attack by ants cause shock? I now believe so. When we’d cleaned up the last of
the ant invasion, I was shaking and suddenly, strangely tired. Though it was
only two in the afternoon, I poured myself a gin and tonic with shaking hands
and then fell promptly asleep in the relatively bug-free living room.
attack by ants cause shock? I now believe so. When we’d cleaned up the last of
the ant invasion, I was shaking and suddenly, strangely tired. Though it was
only two in the afternoon, I poured myself a gin and tonic with shaking hands
and then fell promptly asleep in the relatively bug-free living room.
But I
digress.
digress.
These Mexican
ants – especially the two smaller species that are in love with our kitchen
counters – don’t bite. They just crawl and search and gather in the presence of
the tiniest crumb or the faintest trace of any food residue.
ants – especially the two smaller species that are in love with our kitchen
counters – don’t bite. They just crawl and search and gather in the presence of
the tiniest crumb or the faintest trace of any food residue.
I have
spent several days now, wiping down counters and re-spraying with vinegar (to
neutralize the ant trails) and re-layering the window sill with fresh cinnamon
(which evidently, ants hate) on an hourly basis. Yes, an hourly basis.
spent several days now, wiping down counters and re-spraying with vinegar (to
neutralize the ant trails) and re-layering the window sill with fresh cinnamon
(which evidently, ants hate) on an hourly basis. Yes, an hourly basis.
Every time
I poke my head back into the kitchen, or go to refill my coffee or get a snack
(I snack a lot on writing days), there they are: rallying the troops. And at
dinner time, one can barely cut vegetables or bread on a cutting board before
there are tiny ants rushing in to join the action. So, you have to fight back.
Or at least try to keep the kitchen really, really clean.
I poke my head back into the kitchen, or go to refill my coffee or get a snack
(I snack a lot on writing days), there they are: rallying the troops. And at
dinner time, one can barely cut vegetables or bread on a cutting board before
there are tiny ants rushing in to join the action. So, you have to fight back.
Or at least try to keep the kitchen really, really clean.
That is one
upside, I have decided – while looking desperately for upsides.
upside, I have decided – while looking desperately for upsides.
We used to
leave a big pile of dishes in the sink. Tackling them would become a long
morning job for my husband, or a mid-afternoon job for me. Now, we all clean as we go. If I use a spoon,
even just to stir the coffee in my cup, I have to immediately wash.
leave a big pile of dishes in the sink. Tackling them would become a long
morning job for my husband, or a mid-afternoon job for me. Now, we all clean as we go. If I use a spoon,
even just to stir the coffee in my cup, I have to immediately wash.
Just as I
am waging an hourly battle with ants, I am coping with a more serious
distraction. It feels exhibitionist to share these details here, at a blog, or
on Facebook (I have so far resisted, questioning my own need for public
disclosure, my own cravings for sympathy), but the facts remain: a family
member, who has already battled breast cancer, has now been struck with brain
cancer. It’s still fresh news. We are thousands of miles apart. I will be
visiting to assist with 24-hour home
care soon. But the facts – and the distractions – remain. Every day, there are
emails, text messages, and some phone calls. Updates. Increasingly dire
reports. Attempts to reach out. Attempts to hold it all in.
am waging an hourly battle with ants, I am coping with a more serious
distraction. It feels exhibitionist to share these details here, at a blog, or
on Facebook (I have so far resisted, questioning my own need for public
disclosure, my own cravings for sympathy), but the facts remain: a family
member, who has already battled breast cancer, has now been struck with brain
cancer. It’s still fresh news. We are thousands of miles apart. I will be
visiting to assist with 24-hour home
care soon. But the facts – and the distractions – remain. Every day, there are
emails, text messages, and some phone calls. Updates. Increasingly dire
reports. Attempts to reach out. Attempts to hold it all in.
I want to
do what I did after the Taiwan ant attack. I want to pour a gin and tonic, and
fall asleep. I’ve been running a lot instead. Running, plus gin. A compromise,
at least.
do what I did after the Taiwan ant attack. I want to pour a gin and tonic, and
fall asleep. I’ve been running a lot instead. Running, plus gin. A compromise,
at least.
I am physically
well, and I can’t claim that my own suffering in this approaches anywhere near
the farthest-outside limits of the suffering of the person who is dying, but
here at this blog, we are all writers. We don’t judge each other, I hope, for
bringing it back to the writing. We talk about these things: about how hard it
is to do the work, and especially to stay focused. I will be honest. Focusing
has been a major problem. A family phone call may take 30 minutes, but I have
found, pretty much like clockwork, that I’m no good for two to three hours
after the phone call. An email shouldn’t take long, but I start writing back an
email, to one of my sisters, say, and it turns into a long tome. Because we are
all struggling to accept this news. To make decisions. To deal with our own
feelings and the complicated nexus of relationships that surrounds this
terrible diagnosis.
well, and I can’t claim that my own suffering in this approaches anywhere near
the farthest-outside limits of the suffering of the person who is dying, but
here at this blog, we are all writers. We don’t judge each other, I hope, for
bringing it back to the writing. We talk about these things: about how hard it
is to do the work, and especially to stay focused. I will be honest. Focusing
has been a major problem. A family phone call may take 30 minutes, but I have
found, pretty much like clockwork, that I’m no good for two to three hours
after the phone call. An email shouldn’t take long, but I start writing back an
email, to one of my sisters, say, and it turns into a long tome. Because we are
all struggling to accept this news. To make decisions. To deal with our own
feelings and the complicated nexus of relationships that surrounds this
terrible diagnosis.
I am a
metaphor maker. We all are. So each day, inbetween the dire emails and
worrisome phone calls, and inbetween the hourly vinegar-wipe downs and ant
battles, I ask myself: what am I learning here? What are the ants—and this
other stupid, horrible, inescapable thing— teaching me?
metaphor maker. We all are. So each day, inbetween the dire emails and
worrisome phone calls, and inbetween the hourly vinegar-wipe downs and ant
battles, I ask myself: what am I learning here? What are the ants—and this
other stupid, horrible, inescapable thing— teaching me?
Clean up.
Stay on top of things. Be healthy; go for a run. Share the latest bad email
news with family.
Stay on top of things. Be healthy; go for a run. Share the latest bad email
news with family.
Accept the terrible feelings.
Then try
again. Go back to that essay one more time. Go back to that screenplay which is
only 10 or 15 pages from the end. Try to work one hour. Try to work twenty
minutes. Catch up on emails, and not just the family ones. Forgive oneself for
not writing, or not writing well.
again. Go back to that essay one more time. Go back to that screenplay which is
only 10 or 15 pages from the end. Try to work one hour. Try to work twenty
minutes. Catch up on emails, and not just the family ones. Forgive oneself for
not writing, or not writing well.
Resist the
feelings of futility. Of course, those ten ants I just removed from the counter
are a small loss to the enormous colony that must be living outside my kitchen
window. (Shudder.) But I just have to work with the surfaces I can see.
feelings of futility. Of course, those ten ants I just removed from the counter
are a small loss to the enormous colony that must be living outside my kitchen
window. (Shudder.) But I just have to work with the surfaces I can see.
Resist the
feelings of futility. Who cares about my silly essay, about my experiences
living abroad and learning a foreign language? Who cares about my crappy
screenplay, about Mexican drug traffickers and Ultra-orthodox wheat farmers?
(Yes. Seriously.) Who cares?
feelings of futility. Who cares about my silly essay, about my experiences
living abroad and learning a foreign language? Who cares about my crappy
screenplay, about Mexican drug traffickers and Ultra-orthodox wheat farmers?
(Yes. Seriously.) Who cares?
I can’t
answer that today. I will hold off answering.
answer that today. I will hold off answering.
I will go
back and wash my lunch plate and make sure the watermelon rinds are out of ant
territory. I will go back and open that essay file again. I will submit this
blogpost because it’s what I do the first Thursday of every month. I will
notice the wordcount – look at that, almost 1000 words– why can’t I do that so quickly, with such ease, in my essay or screenplay? Maybe because I was writing about the real distraction(s), and not hiding
from them. But I do have to hide from them, or nothing else will get written.
back and wash my lunch plate and make sure the watermelon rinds are out of ant
territory. I will go back and open that essay file again. I will submit this
blogpost because it’s what I do the first Thursday of every month. I will
notice the wordcount – look at that, almost 1000 words– why can’t I do that so quickly, with such ease, in my essay or screenplay? Maybe because I was writing about the real distraction(s), and not hiding
from them. But I do have to hide from them, or nothing else will get written.
I will try again, as soon I end this blogpost.
Andromeda
Romano-Lax is the author of Behave, a
novel about science, motherhood and the 1920s (Feb 2016), as well as The Spanish Bow, The Detour, and Searching for
Steinbeck’s Sea of Cortez. She is a co-founder of 49 Writers, teaches in
the UAA MFA program, and is a private book coach. www.aromanolax.com.
Romano-Lax is the author of Behave, a
novel about science, motherhood and the 1920s (Feb 2016), as well as The Spanish Bow, The Detour, and Searching for
Steinbeck’s Sea of Cortez. She is a co-founder of 49 Writers, teaches in
the UAA MFA program, and is a private book coach. www.aromanolax.com.
Wishing you well.
Reminded me of this:
“Neither the sun nor death can be looked at steadily.”
―François de La Rochefoucauld
Best wishes to you and your family, Andromeda. You will keep writing, and pull through this.
Thank you both! I did not mean to give the impression I'm not writing. (4 pages today!) We all face distractions and demons every single day and have to just keep pushing ourselves back to the desk. It's a struggle we all share. So I wanted to 'fess up. Meanwhile, everyday life continues. Thanks again.