I’ve been busy with edits for The Warder, honing in on the detail, polishing, steadily working towards publication. There’s a theme running throughout this novel: Transformation.
Prior to publication of Return of the Mantra, brainstorming book cover ideas with the publishers, I came across Adinkra symbols from West Africa. It’s not an idea we went with, but I surprised myself, managing to reduce a story to one word. I have three stories so far in the series, Blood Gift Chronicles:
Book 1 Return of the Mantra, Book 2 The Warder, Book 3 Evren. Their corresponding Adinkra symbols would be Nature, Transformation and Strength:
For the past few months there seems to be have been some parallels between the book I’m working on and life in general. Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about the word ‘Transformation’. For anyone who is a regular reader of this blog, you will know that last year I went through a prolonged period of critical illness. Overcome by a series of infections in my lungs, I was put into a medically induced coma. Despite the efforts of a ventilator, I went into multiple organ failure. It was only thanks to the Royal Brompton Hospital in London, and their life-saving ECMO, that my life was saved.
Now, during this time of Covid-19, those ECMO machines are in more demand than ever. To briefly explain, they are used in cases of severe respiratory or cardiac failure, and filter the blood through an artificial lung, giving the patient’s lungs/heart time to rest and heal. For news of their appeal, see here. Recently, my wife, a nurse, came home from work and told me about a Covid-patient, in ICU here in Exeter, being collected by staff from London’s Royal Brompton. I know nothing about the patient but I know something about the journey they face, and for that I haven’t stopped thinking about them.
It’s pretty much how I feel about the face of every patient I see on the news. This global pandemic hits a personal spot, and so, for the most part I’ve cut down on the amount of news I watch. I know, for the patients involved, their hospital stay is only the first part of their journey. It’s eleven months on since my discharge, and I’m still in recovery.
It’s not bleak, it’s a process of learning, and leads me to the second word I’ve been thinking about lately: ‘Adaptation’. (Love the corresponding Adinkra symbol:)
I’ve come to understand that the impact of critical care, both physically and psychologically, is not widely understood. In terms of my own physical recovery, daily physio has done wonders for my muscle tone, but while I’ve been busy setting myself goals, I’ve come to realise that those goals have to move. I’m not the same as I was before. The fiction writer in me imagines the giant cocoon that housed me for two months and from which I emerged, changed. Since then, every milestone reached has been a triumph, but 2 months laid up does more than affect the muscles. As someone who was used to walking most places, with inflammation now affecting my joints, I’ve taken to my bike.
I feel lucky to live where I do, and to have the most wonderfully supportive partner in Kate. It’s been a treat to cycle along the banks of the River Exe, seeing swans nesting, great crested grebes diving, and mallards with whole broods of ducklings swimming by. After taking practice runs around Belle Isle Park, visiting my favourite tree in Exeter, my sights are now set on venturing further downstream. With the miles increasing, I look forward to the day we can make it to Dawlish for an ice-cream by the sea.
And if you’re looking for inspiration, and ideas for exercise at home, here’s a video I recently discovered: click here. It’s low impact cardio, and after my first go this morning, I can testify that it will work your muscles, get your heart rate up, while being easy on your joints.
Now back to the edits and metamorphosis of a different kind.
Stay safe and wishing you a good week ahead.
