“Something looks back from the trees,/and knows me for who I am.” — American poet, Jane Hirshfield. I spent five days at Wildacres in Little Switzerland, North Carolina at a writers’ retreat: The Powerful Narrative lead by Carol and Bill Henderson this past September. My good friend, Lois Roelofs, flew in from Chicago to join me. Without phones,…… Continue reading WRITING RETREAT
Author: Marianna Crane
After a long career in nursing--I was one of the first certified gerontological nurse practitioners--I am now a writer. My writings center around patients I have had over the years that continue to haunt my memory unless I record their stories. In addition, I write about growing older, confronting ageism, creativity and food.
My memoir, "Stories from the Tenth Floor Clinic: A Nurse Practitioner Remembers" is available where ever books are sold.
GETTING ON THE BUS Part 2 of 2
During the first week, after I wrestled with the monitor to find a comfortable position in bed, I settled into sleep. My heart, booming loudly in my ears, jarred me awake. I pressed the record button and the monitor gave off a high-pitched sound and began taping. As instructed, I lay still. When the whining…… Continue reading GETTING ON THE BUS Part 2 of 2
GETTING ON THE BUS Part I of 2
The first night in a hotel room in Estoril, Portugal, my heart, flipping about in my chest, jolted me awake. Thump. Thump. Thump. Silence. Then a rush of horses’ hooves clopped on my ribs. Trying to ignore my heart’s gymnastics, I tried to go back to sleep but the Mariachi band playing under my ribs…… Continue reading GETTING ON THE BUS Part I of 2
WHITE AMARYLLIS
In my last post I wrote about the trauma surrounding my cancer diagnosis. In spite of mostly negative consequences of living as a “cancer survivor” there were a few positive occurrences. For example, meeting special people I would have never encountered under normal circumstances. A month after my mastectomy I joined a cancer support group…… Continue reading WHITE AMARYLLIS
WHEN CANCER IS NOT CANCER
I was standing in front of the light boxes hanging on the wall in the breast surgeon’s office staring at the mammogram films of my left breast. The surgeon pointed to lesions that resembled a galaxy of twinkling stars in my milk ducts. The Milky Way. A bad joke. “You’ll need a biopsy,” she said.…… Continue reading WHEN CANCER IS NOT CANCER
MEMORIES OF MICU
I recently toured a new state-of the-art medical building. The family/visitor side could have been a luxurious hotel. Original paintings by local artists hung on the walls of lounges with soft sofas and recliners illuminated by diffuse lightening. The operating rooms and intensive care units on the opposite side of the building, out of sight…… Continue reading MEMORIES OF MICU
HELLO BEAUTIFUL
The guy on the motorcycle looked like Jeff. My heart did a flip. His muscular arms jutting from his T-shirt were tan. Of course not like the arms of the guy I knew as Jeff. His were thin and weak. But I imagined this is what Jeff would have looked like before his accident. I…… Continue reading HELLO BEAUTIFUL
SWEEPING AWAY THE PAST
My friend and mentor, Carol Henderson, wrote this for our local newspaper. It is a fitting supplement to my last post: Family Stories. May 14, 2013 One of my cousins recently sent out a letter about our grandparents on my dad’s side, giving us some details from their lives. None of us knew much about…… Continue reading SWEEPING AWAY THE PAST
FAMILIES STORIES
A few years ago, I started to snail-mail a list of questions to my Aunt Anna and she would write down the responses on the pages and mail them back to me. She was my father’s youngest sister and last survivor from a family of ten—five boys and five girls. I entered some of her…… Continue reading FAMILIES STORIES
WRITER IN RESIDENCE
I spent part of last week at the Weymouth Center in Southern Pines, North Carolina working on my memoir. There was a sign on the door, DO NOT ENTER, WRITER IN RESIDENCE, which led to the hallway where I and another writer had accommodations. My room was the Paul Green room and the second was the Thomas…… Continue reading WRITER IN RESIDENCE
