[stylist] writing sample

[Atty Rose]

Thanks Chris.

And I think you should have won!

Love,
Atty

----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Chris Kuell" <ckuell at comcast.net>
To: <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Wednesday, March 12, 2014 12:53 PM
Subject: [stylist] writing sample


> I'm currently working on a short story, but it's far from finished. So I 
> dusted off the following essay, which I submitted to the NFB contest a few 
> years ago (it didn't place). However, I still think it has merit.
>
>
> Non-Fiction, 1000 words
>
>
>
>
>
> Becky and the Bowling Ball
>
>
>
> By Chris Kuell
>
>
>
>
>
> On December 30, 2006, my friend Becky passed out and fell in her kitchen 
> after pouring herself a bowl of cereal. Her husband and son found her some 
> twenty minutes later and managed to revive her. she had no memory of the 
> incident. They rushed her to a local hospital, then on to Ruby Memorial, 
> the West Virginia University hospital in Morgantown. After several days of 
> testing, the doctors drilled a hole in her skull for a biopsy, and 
> determined she had Primary CNS Lymphoma. In layman's terms, an inoperable 
> brain tumor. The cancer hadn't spread, but that's little consolation to 
> someone who just received a death sentence.
>
>
>
> One doctor wanted to start chemotherapy right away, but Becky decided she 
> needed to go home and be with her family to grieve for a few days before 
> the battle commenced. On Wednesday, January third, she spent her 
> forty-fifth birthday at home with the people who are most important to 
> her.
>
>
>
> As of this writing, she is on the fourth day of chemotherapy in her first 
> round of six treatments. She sounds good on the phone-not too sick, and 
> generally optimistic and positive. The day before yesterday she met a guy 
> with the same diagnosis who came in the hospital in a coma. Now he's 
> strolling the halls taking time to chat with people like Becky.
>
>
>
> Of course, there isn't a much tougher blow in life than being told you've 
> got a brain tumor. Becky has received a tremendous outpouring of affection 
> from the many people who know her. One friend built her a web page, 
> complete with photographs of Becky with her family, links to brain tumor 
> information, and a blog where friends can post messages. Across the 
> country, generous people   have contributed money, audio books, prayers, 
> and a tremendous amount of support.
>
>
>
> I think there has been an awesome response because people know and care 
> for Becky, and want to help her and her family during these trying times. 
> She has friends in the writing community, in the blindness community, and 
> just about everyone in the small town where she lives.
>
>
>
> But her diagnosis tweaks a fear response in all our psyches. Our shared 
> humanity dictates that we do something, because God forbid, what if it 
> happened to me?
>
>
>
> The first few days after Becky's diagnosis, I could think of little else. 
> I kept wondering how somebody could walk that tightrope of hope without 
> falling into despair. Then I remembered something that happened while I 
> was in graduate school. I attended the University of Vermont in 
> Burlington, a beautiful town on the edge of Lake Champlain.
>
>
>
> One hot summer day in late August 1987, some kids were having a party 
> downtown in a multi-story apartment building. As things heated up inside, 
> somebody tried to open a window, only to find it wouldn't stay up. So, 
> they got the brilliant idea of propping the window up with a bowling ball. 
> Anyone familiar with the theorems of the late, great, Professor Max Murphy 
> can predict what happened next. As the party grew in intensity, a lone 
> female pedestrian waited outside a local deli below, oblivious to the 
> 16-pound ball of fate accelerating at 32 feet per second.
>
>
>
> And, that's just the way life is. We build fences, regularly put money in 
> our retirement accounts, get childhood vaccines, see our dentist and 
> primary care physicians regularly, never jaywalk or drive more than 5 
> miles per hour over the posted speed limit, take yoga classes and practice 
> mindfulness to reduce stress. We try all our life to build up protections, 
> to guard against our enemies, real and perceived. But, there's no way to 
> avoid that falling bowling ball, or that Titlist in your brain if that is 
> what the universe has in store for you. The idea that we have control is 
> just an illusion. All we can do is decide how we react when it's our head 
> that's in the ball's path.
>
>
>
> In his book, Man's Search for Meaning, holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl 
> determined that the single most important factor in deciding who survived 
> and who perished in the concentration camps was the belief that one still 
> had an important purpose in life. Becky still has plenty to live for. 
> First and foremost, her son and husband rely on her to be the glue and 
> stabilizing force that keeps the family together. Becky's son Josh has 
> Glycogen Storage Disease (GSD), a rare liver condition that causes chronic 
> low blood sugars. She   has made arrangements for Josh to be seen by the 
> country's most prestigious GSD doctor at the University of Florida Medical 
> Center, and I know how determined she is to be there with him. She has a 
> sister, parents, a nephew, and hundreds of people who are in her corner 
> rooting as hard as we can. She has an unfinished novel that she's been 
> working on for years, and she will see it in print some day.
>
>
>
> Despite  receiving a  catastrophic blow when a bowling ball fell on her 
> head, Louisa Murray not only survived, but went on to graduate from 
> medical school. The human spirit is strong, and regardless of the 
> tremendous odds against us, we survive. I've hugged my wife and kids every 
> single day since the bad news, held them in my grasp for a few extra 
> seconds, and savored the feeling. Becky's diagnosis has certainly raised 
> my consciousness about the frailty of life, and I don't imagine I'm alone 
> in this new awareness.
>
> Becky's story has something for all of us, and I am certain of one thing- 
> she always delivers a happy ending.
>
>
>
> Authors postscript:
>
>
>
> Becky did take her son to the GSD clinic at the University of Florida in 
> September of 2007. Unfortunately, he died on February 9, 2009. The grief 
> was too much for Becky, and although she beat the odds by surviving CNS 
> lymphoma for over four years, the cancer came back and took her on March 
> 15, 2010. Her novel, Blind Fear, was published in June of 2010.
>
>
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