Goodnight Marcella - A Schwannoma Diary (#6).

DFA.

The Tangential Author.

I go off on tangents.

A lot. 

Having the kind of mind that just won't quit is both a blessing and a curse. This past week, it has been a blessing. 

I think.

I began the week strong, in a writing sense, and I found myself advancing the tendrils of my current work in progress forward. It was really satisfying. I tend to work in a linear fashion but often I'll get bursts of inspiration that will have me going back in the time line of a given story in order to add nuance to earlier scenes or help me to clarify things that I was struggling with in those earlier parts of the story. Or, I'll go off on tangents. 

Big tangents.

So, I arrived at a scene in which my protagonist, Hayden Luschcombe, had identified a problem with a motor vehicle owned by my other protagonist, Isabelle Sampi - simply by hearing the sound of the engine. Let's just say that Hayden has savant qualities. He declares that the problem with Isabelle's van (she's a Baker/small business owner by the way) is a blocked fuel line and he offers to help her fix the problem until she can get it properly appraised by a qualified mechanic. They live in the mountains of Victoria, Australia in a town that is far from a mechanic.

(I'm shipping these two.)

This presented two problems for me. One - I am not a mechanic. I know a little bit about cars that will help me out of a jam but that's about it. Two - what homespun, ridiculous-but-effective method could I come up with to unblock a fuel line of a 2011 Holden Combo commercial van.

Here's where the tangents kick off. I started by researching the basics of modern motor vehicle fuel systems. What they comprise of, how they pass fuel from the tank to the engine, what the ingredient of modern fuels contain and what scenarios contribute to the blocking of a fuel system. I learned quite a bit from this exploration although a lot of it went quite over my head.

Once I had the anatomy and physiology of a modern motor vehicle fuel system worked out, I progressed to coming up with a homemade method for unblocking a fuel line. Now, as I write this, I'm still trying to nut this one out. See, a fuel line is essentially, a metal reinforced rubber hose which is capable of getting clogged up with a number of impurities from motor fuel. And there are any number of solvents out there that are capable of unblocking said hose. But, for the purpose of my story, it has to be home made and it has to sound - on the surface at least - totally ridiculous. At the moment, I have three ingredients that could be employed, either singularly or perhaps in combination - bicarb soda, citric acid and vinegar. 

I probably need to sound out an actual mechanic as well but, given I still have major problems with my voice, I'm reluctant to introduce myself to people I've not met before. 

I'll work it out I'm sure but if you have any suggestions or know a motor mechanic who can offer up a suggestion, please do point them in this direction. 

#

On the subject of my voice - I know it's been a while since I've spoken about it here but things aren't really progressing in that regard. It's painful to attempt vocalization and when I do, I have this over sensitive gag reflex that kicks in. On a full stomach, it is not pretty. I've lost a few meals because of it, so I avoid it as much as possible. 

It's depressing. 

As someone who enjoys conversation, to not be able to engage in it is isolating. I recently attended a family party and it was a stark experience. I found myself sitting quietly in a corner, observing others rather than being in amongst them. I mean, contributing a handful of nods here and there isn't really very engaging. And the totally acceptable noise level at a party make broken speech impossible so...yeah...

It's still a work in progress but I fear, at this point, there isn't much work left that I can do.

Here's a lovely piece of irony for you though. 

I returned to work a while back and it has been good, even though I've been essentially mute.

One of the first patients I nursed on my return was a young woman who had a large, malignant brain tumor removed. In the immediate aftermath of her surgery, she was doing okay but she unexpectedly had a bleed that rendered her unconscious and she was in a coma for a long time. Gradually she recovered her consciousness but she was mute - really only able to communicate with her eyes and broken hand gestures. 

I was allocated to her and it became a great partnership because we both developed a method of communication with each other that transcended speech. She made it possible for me to nurse despite my impediment and that gave me a much appreciated boost in confidence.

She can speak now. She's actually doing very well and we now have a kind of running joke that she got her speech back faster than I did. 

It's heart warming you know. 

I can take *something* from this situation. 

DFA.

Isolation, Silence & Dysfunctional Fandom.

It's been a week since my surgery.

A long, slow, grinding week, characterized by constant pain, an inability to eat anything more substantial than liquids or pureès, an inability to form anything more than a few words that register above a whisper. I've spent long hours looking at the walls, wrestling with the most basic of decisions - (should I pick up that empty toilet roll tube off the floor so that the dog doesn't chew it - or no?)

I took a photo of the visible part of my throat last night. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to see it and I when I did see it I was sure that I didn't - and I wish I hadn't.

It is raw. It is mutilated. It is green! There is so much putrid slough in there that mere sight of it makes me want to gag. If only I could gag.

In short - I am thoroughly sick of myself.

I'll understand if you choose to vague out now because I know my misery can be interpreted as self indulgent. But I will say that blogging about this experience has gone some way in helping me cope with the situation.

And I will say that on Thursday, I had a slight bump in energy and motivation - enough that I took my dog Sam for a walk to the park and let him off to run around for a bit. Adelaide's parklands near my house are a wonderful open space, safe from traffic and just perfect for burning off some canine energy. Sam was, of course, as pleased as punch. The walk ruined me but I was glad I did it.

I also did some writing on Thursday. Not much - around two thousand words; but they are new words I've committed to a project I've tentatively called Walhalla - one that I've been trying to get going for a little while now. Again, my concentration collapsed after a few hours but, for a time their, it was really nice to just write something - to have some creativity flowing through me. I have only the vaguest idea of where this material will fit into an eventual story. That doesn't matter to me though. These things can be worked out later.

As I predicted, the pointy end of necessary human interaction is beginning to make itself felt and it is not encouraging. Of the few trips I've made to my local grocer this week, I've found them to be understanding without having to divulge the circumstances of my situation. Other places have regarded me with confusion, a latent suspicion and unabashed antipathy. One lady at the chemist the other day when I was trying to mouth the word tramadol, came right out and said, rather incredulously, "You can talk you know!"

A predictable ignorance.

The minute you hope for understanding, human nature comes in and shits all over it.

So I'm avoiding going out unless it's absolutely necessary. Soon, sadly, it is going to be necessary. I'm dreading that.

I think I'm done with pop culture. Looking through my social network feed this week, I've seen a number of spot fires raging around controversies within the Marvel and Star Wars universes and they are just so hack. Something about Captain America being a Nazi now and, shock horror, the forthcoming Rogue One film has to undergo some reshoots - like that never happens.

The pretentiousness of these hyper fans is really difficult to cope with and I feel as though there is an expectation on the part of some of them to engage in a war to justify some sort of defense of an ideology. It's fucking fiction! It's not key to human survival. Their consistent argument is that "my fandom is bigger than your fandom so your opinion has no validity!" I've encountered this personally in just the past week. It is confronting.

It's indicative to me that fandom is essentially broken and that maybe it is time to abandon certain franchises - *cough* Marvel *cough* that have already been twisted up in so many knots, the ability to ret conn them is virtually useless.

Further, I find that fans in my own beloved franchise have hitched themselves to it in sych a way that they have begun identifying themselves as "Star Wars" celebrities. That, because they flaunt their fandom as though it's some kind of penis symbol, they have assumed the right to be intertwined with the universe - almost as if they were in the fucking films themselves. It is annoying. Infuriating even.

I am trying to pay attention to the Federal Election campaign here currently because I like to think of myself as a responsible civic citizen and I want to take my vote seriously. But, I can't make sense of any of the arguments being put forward by the participating political parties. It's becoming lost in confusion and slogans. The only things the nation seems to have been talking about is the economy, superannuation, tax and jobs. Nothing about the arts. Nothing about social justice issues. Nothing about climate. We are a nation obsessed with money and the problems we face as a nation going forward require more than just money to address them.

But then I'm lost again.

Anyway, I have gone off on a major tangent. But it is illustrative of where my mind is at right now. I am unable to focus on anything for more than a short period of time before I am quickly distracted - then disinterested.

And I sit and look out the window.

There's a toilet roll tube on the top of the fence paling.

DFA.