An Old Thought with a New Twist

I’m not sure how this works.

I’ve mentioned before how I think that for some reason the universe (or nature of God or whatever) has it in for me. Or, more to the point, has it in for me making this comic. For some reason I don’t think it’s supposed to come out. Which kind of flies in the face of how I’m supposed to make it.

So am I supposed to make it and then not put it out? Am I supposed to make it and fail? Am I supposed to almost do it and then not get it done?

I bring this up because of the last ominous post, the one I did about a year and a half ago.

ImageIf you want some details on the story, just go back and read those, but what happened was my heart condition – which has always been a non-issue, by the way – took a turn for the worse (or is it “worst”?). They said I’d have to have surgery. This was when my wife was pregnant with our youngest and our oldest was about a year old.

I don’t want surgery. Partially because I’ll be open and I don’t want to be open. Partially because some people die during surgery and I don’t want to die. Mostly, though, it’s because of the inconvenience of it all.

I don’t want an I.V. Or a catheter. Or medication or to watch my diet (not that I don’t already watch my diet, it’s just not the specific diet I’m sure they’ll tell me to do) or to hear how my heart has changed or to be forced to do specific exercises everyday (not that I don’t already do exercises, it’s just not the specific ones I’m sure they’ll tell me to do). I don’t want to take time off of work. I don’t want to have scars. I don’t want my wife to worry and I don’t want to be the reason my daughters are scared.

Every time I start to take this book seriously, something bad happens. Whenever I begin to really get into it and write a bunch or draw a page a day or schedule convention appearances, something bad tends to happen. Something bad happens and I am forced to stop for a while.

Since the last post, I’ve been checked twice more and both times they said I have at least six more months until I’ll need surgery. Is it the diet? The exercise? The kids? Or is it the fact that I haven’t touched an ink pen since 2011?



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