Jess Nickelsen: Discombobulated
February 17, 2021 - Relief


I’ve been writing this morning, but have been on-and-off talking to my sister on the phone as Dad went in to surgery this morning. He’s out now, and she’s spoken with him, and I didn’t realise how much tension I was carrying but suddenly my tea is going blurp! in my stomach (the old poppadom I desperately stress-ate in the kitchen earlier probably didn’t help) and I just feel so relieved. I don’t know how long it’ll be before we find out if the tumour was cancerous, or if they were able to get it all (from his bladder), but this one was the big hurdle for me. Just getting in and out of the anaesthetic, and surgery, ok. Now we can deal with whatever comes next.

(Sitting here in my chair in the study on a sunny day. Yeah, I know.)

Our mum is at a respite care place, as Dad has to stay in at least overnight, and she really will get the care and stimulation she needs there. (Yeah, dementia sucks.) My sister’s hanging with Dad right now and Mum really doesn’t like to be left alone. She seemed happy enough going round there, though she kept wanting to put her jewelry on (and they’d asked that she not bring any with her).


I have a cat here on the chair behind me, snoozing, curled up on some floral flannel fabric I put down for her. I’m writing a scene that strikes me as quite Bellarsian, with an evil magician causing trouble for our Girl Hero and her cat (and a strange trickster called Rum-Tum), doing all sorts of menacing things with the weather (lightning and such), and generally trying to destroy the safe house they are staying in.

I’m thinking lots more about the newsletter, and what things to put in, and what to leave out, and I’ve created a little newsletter bucket” in the notes app on my phone so I can pop things in there during the month, things that please and surprise and interest me, so then I have something to start with.

I know this is very rambly and all-over-the-show, but I really did have to just stop and blurt everything out, get it off my chest. God, relief is such a great feeling.