Seven years ago, the notion of writing a book was not even a thought. After recently surviving heart failure, back surgery, and life-threatening brain surgery, thoughts about recovery consumed me. In fact, the only thing that could hold my attention in 2015 was watching my beloved Iowa Hawkeyes in their historic undefeated season. My brain surgery in 2014 had left me with limited use of my hands and feet. The thrill of watching the Hawkeyes win twelve straight games was a welcome distraction from the countless visits for needed physical rehabilitation.
As a result of the emergency brain surgery, my hands would no longer do simple tasks like pick up a dime from the table. For me, being able to type a book was equivalent to climbing Mount Everest. Explaining how my typing skills before the surgery were non-existent and describing my “hunt and peck” approach to typing, didn’t stop my persistent Physical Therapist who was adamant that typing would help. So, at her behest, the typing began.
Remembering a career of marketing and all the words that had passed through my fingers only added to my frustration. For decades, writing was work not pleasure. Writing all those words that were never read. Words describing the latest greatest technology that the reader needed to buy, right now! Words that were swallowed up in innumerable brochures, PowerPoints, and “blurbs.”
Starting by writing some family history and posting them on my “blog” was a chore. Every day seemed to be a battle between my index fingers and the spell checker. The futile task brought back memories of my mom telling me to take typing in high school. Not extremely high on my list of priorities in those days. Only six years after the brain surgery, my résumé now includes the title “author.” Go figure.
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