I was at my general practitioner’s office when it happened. My general practitioner cornered me. (And I’m gonna try and get these words right.) “When was the last time you actually sat down and wrote anything?” Um, well, been a bit busy with this medical stuff, Doc.
“You’ve got every right to be worried over the diagnoses we’re giving you lately. It’s a lot of possibly fatal diagnoses, and that’s tough on anyone. But, you’ve got a few choices. You can spend the next few months letting the medical profession run your life. You can take our advice and go home and write about how horrible this is in a journal or in your fiction. Or, you can use your talents to bring to light social injustices. Write fiction about the truth behind these injustices. Get people to read about what’s wrong without prejudice. And then convince them you are right. Because you are.”
Yeah, you can guess how much I rolled my eyes. My general practitioner just shook her head, and handed me a list of documentaries to watch yesterday and today. I went home and somewhere between my internet going out and then back on I managed to watch the first documentary. And that’s when it hit me. These weren’t health related documentaries. These were social documentaries! Someone tricked me into watching these.
And you can bet Doc knew what she was doing when she played this dirty, underhanded trick on me. Within minutes, my problems weren’t nearly as difficult as the problems of the lives on the screen. Mine are just the routine “You may or may not die.” These people had real issues. Issues that need telling. And I just happen to be a storyteller.
So, while Doc might not fix my health at the moment, she did fix my pity party problems. In the long run, that’s probably the better fix. Now, I just have to survive the OB/GYN today without too many issues, and we’ll be golden. Or, I can just watch the rest of the documentaries that Doc told me to watch. And then I’ll get right back to writing.