About this series: I revisited my journals from my early years as a freelance writer and found they told a story of their own. In this series I get the rare opportunity to give myself and other writers career advice with nearly 50 years of hindsight. Enjoy!
Yes, Hypochondriac Howard was worried about himself, even though if indeed he was having symptoms of a heart attack he would have been dead before he turned the page in his journal.
But as managing editor of the Journal Opinion, he also had to worry about his staff — and getting the paper out on time. Heap all three into a bowl, stir quickly, and you have a perfect recipe for stress:
Snow blew around — roads slippery.
A light Monday, all considered. Just as well; overwork would really have made me sick.
Last night, I had trouble sleeping because of real or imagined chest pains. Eventually, I promised myself I’d have it checked out.
In the morning, I visited Dr. Osadchey’s office and spoke to his wife (I guess). I don’t think she likes me, for some reason. Anyway, I made an appointment for Wednesday — and felt pretty good for the rest of the day.
Writing and editing was out of the way early. I got started on the arts page, then went to Fairlee Ele. school board. On the way, I noticed [reporter K] was at the selectmen’s meeting.
This is key, because things started to go bad. Mary … crumped on her story. And as it grew later K … didn’t show. I called Fairlee; no answer. Eventually, I drove down — and back — heart pounding. Then we called her home (at 12:45) — and found out she hadn’t bothered to tell us not to expect her because there was nothing to report! I was pissed, relieved, and apologetic — the Worried Parent Syndrome.
So much for the day — except that I developed a sniffly cold — quickly — during the day, probably from visiting the doctor’s office. Now I can’t help but worry whether there is or isn’t anything wrong — I’d hate to appear silly, but I’d hate even more to appear dead. So I’ll go.
Work progressed smoothly. I was done by 4:00, and slept well after a hot toddy.
Journal, Volume III
(Retro) 7 January 1980
Remember, these were the days before cellphones. We had to work the landlines, and those had their limitations. You were either there or you weren’t. No answering machines, no pagers, no call forwarding. So yes, it was stressful.
The unknown is often stressful. The unknown chest and arm pains were stressful enough to prompt me to visit the doctor. My being from the newspaper that had just run a poll about the importance of a medical center was stressful to the doctor’s wife/assistant. It had nothing to do with disliking me.
Making the appointment relieved the stress because now I was doing something about it after worrying for more than a month. Not knowing where the reporter was caused its own level of stress. Knowing she was safe relieved it again so I could get on with my work.
And let’s face it, everyone rests better after a hot toddy, especially when they feel a cold coming on.
