Why do I it?
Someone asked me that.
What he meant was... why now?
With one of my wives (@acrobatichobbit , the small redheaded one) in and out of the hospital, in radiation treatments for stage 4 metastatic cancer... why am I still writing, still self-promoting, still running kickstarters and podcast guest spots and convention appearances?
Why am I not dropping all this petty unimportant career shit and focusing on taking care of her?
Why am I trying to do both?
Is she not more important?
It's a fair question. It deserves an answer.
It's like this. Back before I was a successful, or even promising, author, back before I'd completed a manuscript, back before anyone knew my name, back before cancer was anything to us but an episode of the distant past... we had a deal.
Not a contract. Not a negotiation. But an understanding of sorts.
I quit a high-paying career as an engineer, and wrote a book. She stayed in a high-paying career as an actuary, and carried me.
And in time, I would either fail to hit the A-list, and go back to engineering, or succeed, and carry her.
That's what family does. We carry each other.
Well, I've not hit the A-list yet, but I'm nine months into my first year as a pro, and I'm at least pulling my own weight. Which is way ahead of the curve. So dreams of the A-list, in the fullness of time, may not be so far-fetched.
But time is a luxury we don't always have.
Now she's sick. Shadows on the CAT scan sick. Stage 4 cancer sick. Five centimeter brain tumor removal sick. Radiation and immunotherapy sick.
And it's not enough for me to pull my own weight, anymore.
Because I see her sitting up in bed with a laptop, working. Crunching numbers. Planning other people's healthcare. Managing other people's health insurance.
With staples from neurosurgery still in her head.
And it kills my soul, piece by piece, every day.
And it's not enough for me to carry my own weight. And aim for the A-list... "someday". I have to make this happen as soon as possible.
So I can carry her. As soon as it's humanly possible.
I just have to hustle harder.
I'm sorry if you think that's "vulgar". I'm sorry if you think that I am "overmarketing". I'm sorry if you think I lack "seniority" in the authorship game and should slow my roll, be patient, and wait for things to happen.
But I don't have the luxury of caring about any of that.
So, here I am, not just trying to make a buck, but trying to build an audience to make this whole thing sustainable. While Christine (the other, taller wife) pulls double duty helping me with publicity, and Sara with all the thousand and one details that our overregulated healthcare system likes to shove onto sick people.
I don't feel sorry for myself. Most people with cancer don't have the advantages, the opportunities, the wonderful and supportive friends, that we have.
But I know what I have to do... the one thing I can do.
If she's in the hospital, I'm in the hospital. And every spare moment I have from holding her hand, I'm working.
The show must go on.