Stressful Pivot

and re-intro for 2024

Welcome to Run to Write Community in 2024. I’m so glad you are here…from The States to the UK to Morocco and Canada. This is so cool.

We are a community of movers and shakers!

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A quick update to what you will find here:

Poetry inspired by my runs, nature, and what I notice. I wouldn’t have poems if it wasn’t for the great creation just outside my door.

Wednesday I share pieces from my next book— A Real Ballbuster: Untangling Testicular Cancer Together.

Thursday is poetry out loud. You can listen on Substack and/or wherever you listen to podcasts— search for Run to Write Poetry.

Friday— You’re invited! Join our Zoom room from 11-12 (EST) to write together or work on your latest project. It’s a quiet space to get things done with others. It’s open every Friday so come when your schedule allows.

Please reply to this email with any questions. I love to hear from you. I’m a real person who replies. :)

Now for today’s sneak peek: A Real Ballbuster: Untangling Testicular Cancer Together.

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Jeff’s treatment times varied each day. Some started at 7:30 a.m. some at 8:00 a.m. They were about six hours long. He would bring reading material, podcasts to listen to, and word puzzles to keep him busy. He packed himself some snacks and a small lunch in case he got hungry. I wasn’t allowed to sit with him during treatment. Since COVID-19 the rules had changed— no one else was allowed to sit with their loved one during chemotherapy.

Each morning I would pull up to the entrance of the clinic to drop Jeff off. He would lean in for a kiss and hug before he got out. I felt awful I couldn’t go with him. I felt sick as I watched him enter the clinic by himself his bag of goodies hung over his shoulder.

It just didn’t seem right he had to sit there alone. I was angry. I was sad.

In my mind, I pictured myself there keeping him company. We would play cards, do crossword puzzles together, and talk sports. I would tell him about the kids and what they were up to. I would make sure he ate something and drank lots of water. I would help him to the bathroom if he were feeling weak or nauseated.

I did know he was being cared for by an amazing team of clinicians yet as his wife I felt this duty to be there. My expectations would not be met as Jeff disappeared into the clinic and I drove home.

Yet maybe it was better this way.

I could run, get groceries, clean the house, make meals, and accomplish whatever else came up. I would take action and embrace the circumstance instead of resisting it.

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Thank you for reading and take good care,

Julie