|Tulips taking a bow, 2/9/14|
As many of you reading this know by now, I was diagnosed in late January with a brain tumor, assumed malignant. On January 30, a neurosurgical team at Desert Regional Medical Center in Palm Springs went in after it. Removal was successful, and we now await full recovery.
I am at home with my wife, a tireless caregiver and patient advocate beyond measure or comparison. My daughter is also here for a time before returning to her home back East, reasonable travel weather permitting.
Blog. I expect before long to be blogging regularly again. The one hitch is that I have lost full use of my left arm and hand—a condition I hope is temporary. Single-handed keyboarding is a bit of a chore.
To be honest, after the kind of trauma that comes with literally having your cranium cracked, I worried that I would lose the capacity to continue what I’ve been doing here—thinking and writing about frontier fiction and westerns. As mental and physical energies have rallied, my concern about that has abated. If anything, I may come out on the other side of this more garrulous than ever. (You have been warned.)
Thanks. There is no adequate way to say thanks for all the good wishes and prayers (same thing) that kept me going through all this. I was aware of the company of many others, keeping vigil and silently walking with me. That awareness of being remembered helped the passage of some solitary hours and reinforced my faith that I was always in Good Hands. Most amazing is how few of us have ever met except here in this digital ether. I remain in awe of that for us all.
Wrapping up. I have that same digital ether to thank for the ease with which I can adapt to this new normal. Yesterday I was downloading novels to my kindle and nook, all without leaving bed. And while holding a book easily with both hands remains a challenge, I’m grateful for e-readers that get me around that.
With any luck, blogging will come again as easy.
Resuming eventually: Glossary of frontier fiction