Saturday, November 29, 2008

 

A Second Chance

Not so long ago, the author of this publication suffered a massive heart attack. The fact is, he should have died - he survived nearly 30 resuscitations - and he wondered why he had pulled through.

With this in mind, he added an Epilogue to the publication part of which is included here:




****************

Time and again I have wondered why I survived something that possibly I shouldn’t have.

One reason, I felt, concerned being given the time to finish writing my father’s diaries. I did start on this many years ago, however, when I asked my father at the time to go over what I had written and to make the necessary corrections. He found it too upsetting and declined to do so. Since then I have done nothing but maybe now is the time to go back and start again.

Another reason, I thought, concerned this journal and the belief that I survived so that I could finish it once and for all and give it to my kids, and possibly publish it, before it is too late to do so.

One of the things a heart attack does is show you how immortal you are not. I have been told that, in the first two years of my recovery, given what I went through, my physical condition and my health prior to my heart attack, I run a 20% risk of having a hic-cup. I have also been told that this rate will slowly decrease as time goes by, but that, nevertheless, I am still susceptible to further heart issues.

This wake-up call made me realise I couldn’t afford to put off until tomorrow something I should be doing today as, in my case, there is now the real chance that there might not be a tomorrow.

Accordingly, with the above in mind, I sought an outside opinion from a published author as to the worthiness of what I have written. Here are some comments she made:

“I have read the entire manuscript, and can’t see any reason why you should not publish. It is a raw account, but its rawness makes it real. It’s also very clear, given the journal format, that your feelings are expressed in the moment, confidentially to the ‘Janet’ in your journal more than to the Janet in real life. It’s written in the way that journals are – no holds barred, expressing things you might not otherwise express to anyone else, exploring the darker side without fear of committing it to paper, using the journal as a way to work through the stuff and to slowly – very slowly – get some insight and make small steps towards understanding some of the dynamics involved in the breakdown of the relationship. It captures the dynamics of the relationship breakdown very well.”

“As such, I don’t see anything you’ve written as being hurtful. You expose your own rawness, vulnerabilities, issues, and – between the lines – your own blind spots as well as your wife’s…”

“…No-one could read this account without gaining a deeper understanding into your experiences and feelings at the time, and this can only be enlightening in a helpful way, I believe, to your children (now that they are grown) and to others going through a relationship breakdown…”

“…At first glance I didn’t like the title. It didn’t grab me, but as I read your book I realised the title is perfect. Emasculation was at the heart … of all your experiences. The title drums it in.”

Taking her comments into account, I have now done some editing and proofreading and made corrections where necessary, however, it needs to be said, this journal was never intended to be a literary masterpiece with no grammar or vocab errors. It was meant to be an easy to read chronology of events, as seen through my eyes, that took place a number of years ago, regarding our marriage.

She also suggested I write an epilogue to put some context of where I am now around what I wrote about all those years ago. Hence, this final chapter. I am not sure what I have written here is what she meant, but it does reflect my current state of mind over what happened between us.

Having said this, and considering what I went through with my heart attack, I am pretty lucky, and now I am trying to make the most of my second chance.


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