When someone close to you is diagnosed with cancer, your heart skips a beat. As someone with heart disease, I can tell you, that's not good. My mom had surgery Monday, and that was a terribly long day. Whoever named the waiting room got it exactly right. No matter what else you do there, whether it be pray, worry, sit, stand or walk around, you are going to wait. And wait. And wait. Pressure mounts. It's like being on the sidelines during a big game instead of in the middle of the action. Everything is out of your hands. Real pressure.
I'm happy to report that she is doing fine; recovering nicely. But the road to recovery will be long and hard. Staples will have to be removed, scars will take time to heal, and then there will be the chemo treatments. It will not be a pleasant next few months. I will be taking care of her, and I'm glad to do it. However, I also need to be careful and not get over stressed or over tired. Therefore, I won't be working on my novel until some time next year. At least that's the plan right now. Who knows though, maybe I can get back to it sooner than I think. Either way, whenever I do pick it back up, I won't be so stressed about the writing business. It's a job. A career. It's not life or death.