I’ve been doing a lot of writing. I’ve finished a couple of pitch papers, sequence treatments, a few essays, a web-series script (and it’s revised versions), while researching for another script I’m working on. Having just come from the city and taking in that vibe and tapping into that pulse gave me so many new ideas that I am working on and it’s just quite fun to be back in this sort of creative momentum and drive.
I have to get as much done because pretty soon I’m going to get my fistula procedure done and that is going to take me out of commission for quite a while.
I guess it would be considered an invasive procedure. They are cutting open my arm and manipulating my veins and arteries to create the fistula. That’s what I understand anyway though I’ve been reading up on it a lot and I was unsure whether I was understanding the medical jargon correctly. It’s a out-patient procedure and it’s nothing serious. I’m going to be perfectly fine.
It’s the healing process and the process for the fistula to mature that’s going to challenging. I can’t move my arm — my right arm this time — for two weeks so that the fistula can mature. I had a fistula operation already earlier this year but after just a few days it clogged up. My veins were too small. So my new doctor gave me exercises, which I’ve been doing daily, to increase the size of my arteries and veins and they are now big enough to have a fistula. My first doctor didn’t even bother to check. He just wanted to operate.
I’m not taking any chances now, though. I’m going to ask them to put my arm on splint so that I won’t move it at all. For two weeks, I’m going to stay in bed, watch Netflix, and just let the damn thing mature.
Since it will be impossible to write with only my left hand, I’m going to just wait it out. I’m going to avoid texting or even using social media. I’m just going to stay in bed, eat food that’s easy to eat with just one hand (and the hand I’m not proficient with, to boot), and just heal until the damned fistula matures.
So I’m writing as much as I can now because when the procedure happens, it’ll be like a dam leaving all my creative energy in my head and without any means with which to put it down on paper.
Let it flow. Let it all out now. When the dam comes, it’s got to stop. And I’ll have to pick up where I left off after two weeks. Hell, even if it takes a month.
I love how the word mature in this entry is not just talking about my fistula but about the kind of attitude I have to adopt to survive this.