While August was a month in which to soak up the warmth and outdoor activity of the summer season, September was a month of seasonal changes, especially as the month drew to a close, including the temperature (dropping, a bit quickly this year it seems), leaves shifting their color palette (a pleasure of this season), and the outside focus (a last camping trip) turning inward (cue the list of indoor projects).
Of course, the autumn weather will often be inviting, there is still the list of outdoor tasks to complete, and that finally final mowing, but the slowing rhythm of the season felt in the later sunrise and earlier sunset draws me inward.
Work: For me, the rhythm of my WIP (work in progress) has shifted from actively working on the second (or twenty-third, depending on how you tally) draft of my Armenian family memoir to participating in a creative nonfiction workshop where I’m receiving feedback on the first seven chapters, one week at a time. The feedback I’m receiving is making me consider returning, once again, to the beginning and starting yet another draft. I’ve known such a revision would be necessary but now, with the feedback, I’m starting to see the potential shape that new draft might take. Another part of me wants to keep pushing forward with the current draft, in my longing to have a whole complete thing, regardless of its merit. And I’m still lacking a structure to write into, at least one I can articulate to myself.
What are the pros and cons of starting over? Is there a value in pushing forward?
Wonder: Have you ever wondered what it is like to have a MRI? I have heard that procedure mentioned over the course of my life mostly in the context of an expensive last-resort or absolutely necessary scan. Recently, I had my first MRI, to check out my heart due to my abnormal heart rhythm, i.e., atrial fibrillation. First, let me say yay for the scientific minds that created this modern medical device that helps so many. But mostly I want to say WTF—a narrow tube? Why couldn’t it be something less confining, less tomb-like? And did I mention I have claustrophobia? In addition, MRI machines are the opposite of quiet. Great bursts of sounds similar to a car horn and grinding gears and a house alarm, so loud you are required to wear ear protection. While I’m grateful to find out that in spite of my atrial fibrillation, my heart is otherwise healthy, I have a new life goal, which isn’t entirely under my control: to never have another MRI.
Have you had an MRI? How did the experience go for you? How did you manage any anxiety you may have had?
Windows: The birds and squirrels know that change is upon us and are busy consuming and collecting food. Our large dogwood tree bloomed spectacularly this spring and the result is now being appreciated by the creatures as they feast upon the seedpods. The squirrels, robins, and flickers are exuberant eaters, scattering the chaff all over the deck and brick walkway.
So jealous of your weather as I hibernate from 110-degree days—in October. I, too, recently got the same diagnosis, without an MRI, and I’m angry no one tested me 10 years ago when I was surely in the onset stage. Now I have trouble getting through a pickleball game—though the 110 degrees could also be a factor. What a drag . . .
Oh, you must be so tired of the heat! I’m sorry about your AFib. I want to hear more, I’m sending you an email.
I have had a couple of MRIs and yes, they are noisy. They make me think of what it might be like living in a submarine (no thanks), with all of the clanging. Enya’s music is a go to for me when I need to calm myself and try to relax and her music was an option in the imaging center’s music selection.
A submarine, great image! They offered music but I thought it might just annoy me (didn’t ask about choices), and the headphones ended up feeling too claustrophobic—I used ear plugs. Thanks for reading!