“Wandering in Oblivion” began in November of 2013 as a jumble of stream of consciousness journal entries while I was visiting Marian (my mother) in the hospital. A good portion of the first chapter was written on Marian’s first full day in detox. Over the next 81 days, I would bring my laptop to visits and if the opportunity allowed, I would write. The words just flowed when Marian was around, like she was some kind of muse – it was very strange. It was as if she needed me to communicate her story because the schizophrenia wouldn’t allow her to do it for herself. At night I would read my ramblings to Diana (my wife) who would listen intently and ask insightful questions that would help me reason through the mess of the day’s or the week’s ramblings – Diana was always much smarter than me. I wrote with no particular objective other than the need to get the thoughts out. I bumbled along until one day Diana said, “You really should weave these into a book.” Diana believed there was value in helping people understand what families actually go through when they have a schizophrenic loved one – especially when it’s your mother.

I always felt competent writing 30 second TV spots and have my share of awards on shelves that would attest to some kind of competency. But writing a book is a whole different matter. There’s no cinematography, or music score, or voice over, or actors that I could hide behind; all I had were the words – scary.  As my writer friend Bruce said, “Writing a book is like walking around in a hospital gown.” I would add, “Writing a memoir is like strolling through your best friend’s wedding reception wearing only a sock… the kind of sock the band Red Hot Chili Peppers use to be famous for.”  Google it….

As the months passed, I burdened Diana with the chore of reading the many agonizing rough drafts of “Oblivion.”  She thoughtfully made edit suggestions and found a zillion mistakes without a complaint. By 2016, I believed I was getting close to having the manuscript finished enough that I could begin searching for an agent who could possibly rep the book and lend me a hand editing – I understood it was a long shot. After sending out over a hundred query letters, I received only tepid response from a small handful of agents who could only offer encouragement to keep writing. The good news was that I didn’t give-up and kept chipping away at the manuscript, which only made it better.

With Diana’s constant support, by early 2017 I decided to self publish the book. As I was about to move forward, in April, our world collapsed – Diana was diagnosed with stage 2 pancreatic cancer. Everything became insignificant as we confronted this nightmare. My complete focus turned to Diana’s health – she was my world. Though the disease was caught in an early stage, it was extremely aggressive and in a perilous location involving the junction of vital organs. After a summer of spirit crushing chemo, 3 stint procedures, followed by weeks of painful radiation and endless MRIs and CT scans, and countless trips to MD Anderson in Houston, Diana had major surgery in November of 2017. If Diana survived the procedure, she would emerge with a 50/50 chance of getting an additional 5 years or more – it was a risk she/we wanted to take. Besides Marian, Diana is the bravest woman I’ve ever known – hands down. After a grueling 13-hour operation, what we actually got – 13 months: 8 days: 13 hours: 28 minutes. It doesn’t sound like much, but I wouldn’t have traded those precious days for any amount of money on earth.