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Physician, Heal Thyself
From ME/CFS (Part 3 of 3) Dear Reader, my apologies. Within the confines of my current prison, I have not yet completed the essays I promised you months ago, neither
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Physician, Heal Thyself
Another metaphor of what my confusing disease feels like— a cold, painful, lonely prison with little hope for escape.
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Conventions, Revisions, and Aging Humor
I’m traveling today with my son Ben to the American Christian Fiction Writers’ National Convention in New Orleans. My hat’s in the ring there for a First Fifteen Pages contest for unpublished authors.
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Writing “The Dis”
By the time we are thirty years old, we know it’s true: all our abilities are temporary. Our physical and cognitive skills decline, at an ever-increasing pace, as if with a will of their own.
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Rescue is Coming for Those Who Suffer with Chronic Pain
To the young woman, utterly lost and sore-afraid, imprisoned in the Underground, I say, “Hold on!” To the old man, desperate with pain and blinded by the darkness, I say, “I am coming.” Listen for my voice and follow me. I am heading out of this wicked place in due time.
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The Coiling Snake of Tension Headache
I am Theseus. How long I’ve been in the Underground I cannot say. Already I have lost my way. The muscles in my back have become like knotted ropes. Sleep eludes me.
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Theseus Descending
There must be 101 ways to hurt. All of them are rotten. Some of them change us. Even tiny things can pack a wallop. Consider these five: a hornet sting on the hand; a scratch across the eye; a kidney stone on its journey; a gout flare in the toe; and a burned finger on…
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A Song for Sammie
I’m searching for somebody—the person I can help the most through my writing. I don’t know her real name, because she’s a private person, but sometimes I call her Suffering Sammie. If you see her, or if you know where she lives, could you tell her I’m still looking for her? That I never gave…
