I started writing and creating when I was young, but like most people, I lived with hurdles that kept me from finishing the work. Jobs, family, writers block, all the usual. In the early 2000s, I had a serious head injury that forced me into retirement. I was an IT Director and a very type A personality. Although I couldn’t communicate on the outside, and everything I thought I knew had been wiped out, I was cognizant on the inside. So, I started doing small projects and over time, I learned to speak and think again. It was a slow process, and I am still struggling in some areas. In 2017, I was diagnosed with Stage IV Metastatic Breast Cancer. Boy, was I mad. I had just gotten to a place where I wanted to reenter the world, but my cancer was aggressive, and I was done. (Yes, there is a point to this, grin.) I refused to accept that my life was over, and with the help of my daughter, found a doctor who was willing to try some extremely aggressive treatments. It was awful, but worth it. I almost died in 2020 from my treatments and lost the ability to speak and walk. No kidding. I had to have aggressive physical therapy to learn all over again. However, like before, inside I was cognizant. So, I spend day after day doing whatever it takes to get out of that bed. Months later, I drove a car. (My PT wasn’t thrilled, grin.) I had already lived two years longer by this point that had originally been told. Then, I made the crazy decision to build a tiny house. It was physical therapy for me. I went to the dump, found a good trailer (Actually an old camper that the top was ripped off) and started designing the tiny house. (I bet you are wondering what this has to do with writing... hang in there.) So, for the next year, while I was still recovery, I built the darn thing. I spent hours drawing and creating the design, and to my family’s disbelief, built it. I did have some help from friends and family, but I used that hammer. When it was done, I think I was more shocked to still be alive than the fact that I finished it. I have survived so far and did something no one thought I could do, including me. Bucket list: check. What now? Then one afternoon, I started doing some graphics for my grandson. You see, he is autistic. I wanted to create some social stories that he could use to help him understand... well, life. It was a good choice because my body was struggling, and I was getting tired. So, I started writing again. I have written over 35 children’s books, “The Widget and Gidget Stories”, three novels and several other odd and end books. Writing has become my outlet. It is what I have wanted to do as long as I can remember. My first novel, “Malevolent Intent,” I started nearly 20 years ago, but I never had time to finish it. It is strange how such awful life-changing events can happen, but in the strangest way, they are a blessing. I cannot do the work I did before the head injury and cancer, but I can do art and write stories. Will I die? Everyone dies, but it is the writing and my children that keep me alive. I am six years past my expiration date. The moral of this story? If you find something to live for, family, writing, art, then you will live no matter how long. I may not have the life that I dreamed of in my 40s, and I will never be that person again, but at 60, disabled and a walking miracle, I have a life, and I am still here. Read more about this authorRead less about this author