In the mid-1980s, I inadvertently signed up for the Symptom-of-the-Month Club and couldn’t find the unsubscribe button. And they didn’t oust the previous symptom. They piled on top of one another until I could make a spreadsheet of fourteen painful, debilitating, or inconvenient symptoms.
I wrote a daily, scripted, 15-minute radio broadcast at the time. But I couldn’t hold a pencil or punch the typewriter keys for the pain in my hands, and every other joint and muscle in my body. Write? Even then?
The disease affected my vision, saddled me with piercing headaches that lasted for months at a time with no let-up, threw my heart out of rhythm, and reduced me to couch potato status for all but the essential tasks.
Thirty years ago, but I remember lying on the couch, my arm over my eyes, dictating a radio script to my friend who jotted the thoughts on a yellow legal pad. And we didn’t miss a radio deadline.
The epigraph for the novel that releases today, coincidentally, As Waters Gone By reads:
recalling it only as waters gone by.”
Job 11:16 NIV
Did you catch the dichotomy there? We will forget AND remember! I’m keying words into my laptop at a fierce rate today, sitting upright, headache-free, with my heart beating a rhythm natural for a person drinking this much caffeine. I remember the Lyme Disease days, but only as waters gone by.
What hope that gives me for other times when the physical act of writing is hard—like when I finally succumb to my next knee replacement. Or when recovering from the flu. Or when the ache across my shoulders tells me I’ve been sitting here too long.
The day will come…
May we all hold onto that hope.
As Waters Gone By
|As Waters Gone By|
by Cynthia Ruchti
Emmalyn Ross never thought a person could feel this alone. Sustaining a marriage with a man who's not be her side is no easy task, especially since her husband currently resides behind impenetrable prison walls. Now, on a self-imposed exile to Madeline Island, Emmalyn starts rehabbing an old hunting cottage they'd purchased when life made sense. Restoring it may put a roof over her head, but a home needs more than a roof and walls, just as a marriage needs more than vows and a license. With only a handful of months before her husband is released, Emmalyn must figure out if and how they can ever be a couple again. And his silence isn't helping.