I keep the blog pretty much to my writing, but I do think occasional personal posts are appropriate. Tomorrow, I've got an echocardiogram scheduled. I'm 33 years old and just a couple months ago the doctor was checking my heart routinely and I watched him go back and forth, back and forth. Never seen that before. I presumed it wasn't good. When he used the word, "murmur," I knew it wasn't. He's not terribly worried, since it never has come up until now, but he's taking seriously enough that I'm getting my heart valves checked out tomorrow.
This is a new one for me. I've been through my share of emotional ringers, of course. (Who hasn't?) And all the stuff I've been part of involving bones and dead bodies has forced me to encounter some some existential realities in a really personal way. And I've had family members in danger before. I've not been a picture of good health, but this is the first time I've really faced the real possibility of a doctor telling me something that has a lot of life-threatening potential.
In my personal life I play it off for the most part. I emphasize the doctor's confidence like the optimist I trained myself to be. I crack Dr. Who jokes like the smart-ass the cops and forensics people trained me to be.
The interesting thing for me, though, and the reason I wanted to posted about this here, is how this impacts my writing. Ever since I first read Camus, I've been really intrigued by the notion of life-defining moments in the face of absurdity. Ever since I first starting working with dead thing, my writing tended to reflect that interest in the form of situations involving death.
Now that I'm sort of looking into the face of one of those moments, it's a little weird. The writer in me is intrigued by the possibility of seeing how I would actually respond, given the worst. The real person in me is terrified of that possibility and a little offended by the writer in me. And I think this is the first time the writer in me and the person in me have been at odds like that.
It feels very twisted.
Anyone else have moments like that? Where the writer personality has an interested in observing and learning from the worst option that the person in you rebels against?