I'll tell you what folks, life can be a cruel companion as you get older. In less than a week I've been hit with tough breaks and what seems to be mountains of stress that don't seem fair. But of course crying about it won't help anything because life surely ain't listening to little O me.
My son Perrin is going to need another surgery. The poor little guy has already had his brain operated on and now he needs to have his spinal cord fixed and adjusted because there are some fibrous cords attached to it that shouldn't be there. To me, when I hear someone say they're operating on your spinal cord, that's not good or a slam dunk routine procedure by any means. That's one of the most sensitive and delicate areas of the body where even the slightest slip can cause an impairment for the rest of a patient's life. Yet all things considered, as far as spinal surgery goes, the one Perrin will have is one of the lowest risks. I don't really feel much like going into the specifics of the surgical procedure, but I sure as hell hope this is the last surgery he needs for many many years. I'm not as tough as he is and the stress of this weighs on me heavier and heavier each day.
In addition to my son's problems, my brother Louie is going through a rough patch. After almost 20 years of marriage, he's decided he wants to end his marriage and divorce his wife. I've watched him struggle over the years trying to keep a strong outward face to all of us, but I knew that inside he was suffering with a whole series of different stresses, pains, and emotions. He's finally decided that enough was enough and he told his wife. I don't think she saw this coming and as such she's having a hard time with his decision. Unfortunately it seems her way of dealing with the situation involves a large dose of irrational behavior and mind games that is making an already difficult decision for Louie that much harder to deal with. I don't know of another guy who is more caring and giving than he is and he deserves a chance to find happiness for himself in life. And as much as I want to jump in and protect him from everything, all I can do is stand at his side and watch his back. If I could insulate him from all the BS, I would do it in a heartbeat, but instead I have to settle myself with knowing that as I watch his back, he will get the best advice and insight I can give him from all my years of BS and Drama from having dealt with my real family. I can only hope that it's enough.
In the midst of this storm of "The Other Shoe Dropping" the yearly event that I look forward to the most came and went. I'm talking about the Chicago Comic Con, otherwise known as Wizard World Chicago. It was definitely already marred with the events of my own life distracting me from what I wanted to accomplish when the entire convention seemed to slow down and drag over the news of the passing of Michael Turner. He was only 37 and I think his best work was yet to come, but what you keep hearing over and over again is how wonderful a person he was. I only had a chance to meet him once for like 5 minutes, but he was incredibly nice to me and went out of his way to draw me a sketch when the line I was in was really only for signatures. He made me feel special and made me feel that I was doing him a favor by letting him do this for me. You definitely don't meet people like that every day.
On the other hand I did get to meet my friend Brant Fowler in person for the first time, and that was just too cool. We had a good time and it was fun to put a face to the signature at the bottom of all those emails. I also got a chance to meet Gail Simone and to talk to her a bit. I definitely gushed my fanboy colors while she signed some books for me, but it was enlightening and exciting to talk to her and I would rank those 5 or so short minutes as the highlight of my entire weekend. It would be fantastic to talk to her again one day specifically about writing without a line of people behind me.
For now that's all I really have to add. I think I'm going to lay my little horned head down for the night.
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