Monday, January 18, 2010

Reinvention, the hard way.

Maybe you have noticed I haven't been here lately. Maybe you have noticed I haven't been at anybody else's blog lately, either. Today I decided I'd just as well tell you what is going on.

We have a crisis in our family. My husband has a cancerous brain tumor. It's fast-growing, inoperable due to its location, and is also considered incurable. He has changed so much in the last several weeks due to this horrible thing--he's gone from being the smartest, most capable person I know to someone who relies on me for just about everything.

When I first started writing this blog, in October 2008, I said I was going to reinvent myself. Back then my thinking was very, very superficial. In the last couple of months--especially this past month--I have been reinvented because of this cancer.

We live in a small town and are surrounded by hundreds of people who care about us and are incredibly supportive. Home-cooked meals have been brought in, volunteers take my husband to his daily radiation treatments, and we had a huge turnout for the pitch-in dinner held in my husband's honor. We receive cards, emails, calls, hugs, and more types of help than I can name.

But essentially, it comes down to me. Little me, the gal who avoids decision-making because she's bad at it, who hasn't checked the oil in her car in all these years of marriage because it was done for her... I'm not the same person I was a few months ago, or even a few days ago.

It's reinvention. I guess I'll be a better person because of it.

Lately a few people have asked me if I'm still writing. I had a book due to come out electronically in March, and I haven't quite finished writing it. Haven't touched it since (I'm guessing) mid-November when we were beginning to try to figure out the cause of my husband's symptoms. But if I can, I would like to write again. I want to go back to Legend, Tennessee, and reintroduce myself to the characters I left in the lurch so many weeks ago.

People do, I know. People persevere in creative pursuits even while their hearts are breaking and they are emotionally exhausted. Not sure if I'm that kind of people or not.

Thanks for listening. I have missed being here...



  1. ...and we miss you, too, Magdalena. And love you lots. Legend will always be there, when you are ready.

    Remember to take care of you, too.


  2. Yes. Legend will be there when you're ready. Right now, it sounds like your real life Legend is rallying around you and your family. Let them love you all. Perhaps your writing now is the precious family moments you have left. You think you will remember, but you won't so record them now.
    You know, I am praying for my good friend Magdalena, husband, and son. God knows you and loves you.

  3. I did notice you've been missing, but I had no idea. Sending you courage, strength and love...


  4. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

  5. You are so beautiful and so brave. My heart breaks for you. As I lift prayers for you, Carl, and the Progeny, I also lift prayers that your gifted writing will not cease to flow. After the tragedy of his son's death, Shakespeare wrote his most rich and powerful plays. His grief empowered him, as he had plumbed the depths of sorrow. No one would want such a path to a deeper understanding of humanness, but sadly, it is your path---and so my prayers are lifted: for courage, for love amidst the brokenness, for a fountain that continues to flow amidst the sadness and pain, for a knowledge that even as life is shattered the love of the Eternal is ever with us. Writing has a healing quality and I lift prayers of hope that continuing to write will give you a place of refuge in a time of sadness and sorrow. Sending much love.

  6. Oh, Magdalena. {{hugs}}

    Sending you lots of love and prayers. Legend will be there waiting for you, but do take care of yourself.

  7. Magdalena, You have our thoughts and prayers.

  8. Thank you all so much! I'm sure the thousands of prayers these past weeks have helped. At least he's not had pain--if that is our miracle, I'll take it and be grateful for it.

  9. I am so sorry honey. Yours is such a hard situation. Enjoy what time you have left. If he's able, go out and do the things you've always wanted to do. Together.
    As sad as it is, it's also good that you know what's going on. And have time to prepare. An acquaintance of my mother's just passed, four days after she learned she had lung cancer.
    Make the most of your precious time together.

  10. Magdalena, I am so sorry. We lost Mike's Mom to brain cancer last year so I know how devastating it can be.

    Know you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers. Please let me know if I can do anything for you.


  11. Mags, there are no words but you're in my thoughts and prayers. Be strong and please know that you are loved.

  12. holding you close in love and thoughts...

  13. Magdalena....You might remember me. You were kind enough to host me on a cyber tour when my novel was released in November.

    I am so terribly, terribly sorry to read your news here. And believe me, I know words can be comforting, however, they're not able to remove that horrible pain deep inside of us.

    My 43 year old son was diagnosed with lung cancer in March. Stage III-A and we don't know what the outcome will be. It's a constant weight I feel each and every day.

    I'm on deadline for my book #2 and the Christmas novella and somehow managed to get my revisions finished and also finished the novella. I will say that while involved with these tasks, my pain was temporarily removed. Perhaps we need that "other world" of our fiction to get us through probably the most difficult time in our life. Please know I'm thinking of you and sending strength and prayers your way.
    Terri DuLong

  14. Jennifer, Deb, Devon, Theresa, and Terri, thank you. I know you've had hard times... Most of my life has been very easy; I guess it's time I grew up.

    Terri, I can't imagine what you're going through with your son. Blessings on your family as that journey continues.

  15. Mags, An easy life with someone loving handling some things and you handling other things suited to your strengths is NOT being a child. It's called a partnership.

    Whats this stuff about *growing up*? You can handle whatever comes your way. You have the strength and the smarts. The difficulty is having to deal with and even think about stuff you haven't had to because of the partnership between you and your husband. No growing up needed. Don't be so hard on yourself.

    I'm so very sorry to hear this. We dealt with my nephew Ryan's brain tumors for years. It's NOT an easy road, hon. Ryan and his sister were generously shared with me by my sister and best friend. They're like my first set of kids and my son, Jake is the second set. Jake still calls Deanna his sister.

    I know this is hard, but one thing I learned, it's amazing how well they can pinpoint an area in the brain with radiation and amazing how the radiation shrinks the tumor. I'm hoping Carl can get it down to manageable size and it will go into remission.

    As for writing, when things like this hit me, it's hard to write. For me, all my energies are focused on one thing. When I have a deadline to meet, yes forcing myself to get it done does give me a bit of a respite.

    I so wish I could take it all away, my friend. All I can do is keep you and your family in my prayers.

  16. Hi Magdalena,

    We're facebook friends and Sia pointed me to your blog. I'm sending you a lot of prayers and good wishes.
    I am saddened to hear how many people know someone, love someone who has or had cancer. You think it won't happen to you- and then it does. If you're the caregiver, you think- how can I do it? I'm not that good- but you are.
    Always remember you're not alone. Don't worry about writing- take care of you and your family first.

    All my best, Nance

  17. Dear Magdalena, never soubt your strength. You spread your warmth all over the world, and as one who's only known you "cyberly" from Australia, I want you to know that I'm sending every positive thought for you and your husband and your son.

  18. Sia, Nancy, Barbara, thank you so much.

    Sia, my heart goes out to you and everyone touched by your dear nephew's brain tumors. Indeed this is not an easy road for anyone concerned. Thank you for doling out a little tough love to me, my dear. Sometimes I tend to wallow...

    Nancy, I appreciate you taking the time to make a first visit here to Magdalenaville. It does seem cancer is everywhere...

    Barbara, I miss visiting you at your blog. I always enjoy the photos and descriptions of your world Down Under. I've been drinking a lot of tea lately, and quite often I think of you, my tea-drinking friend.

  19. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.