“Still writing—even with a Rudolph nose.”

Hello, dear reader.

It’s been a strange week in the body I call home. The kind of week where even breathing feels like effort, and rest isn’t a reward but a requirement. I fell ill. Really ill. The kind of poorly that reminds you that you’re human after all—fragile, fallible, and in desperate need of warm soup and silence.

I wanted to write sooner, but my body wouldn’t let me. I had to surrender. And that’s not easy for someone like me, whose mind is always juggling stories, schedules, and secret dreams.

But today, something softened.
My body, while still aching, gave me a little window of clarity.
Enough to open my computer.
Enough to speak again.
Enough to write—though my nose, bless it, is still swollen like Rudolph at full glow.
Yes, it’s red. Yes, it’s painful. And no, it’s not cute anymore.

So here’s what’s been going on. And maybe, just maybe, there’s something here that might resonate with you too.

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When the Body Says No

Illness has a way of rearranging your priorities.
I had to cancel plans, delay writing sessions, and stare at the ceiling longer than I wanted to. For days, even the sound of typing felt too loud. And yet, somewhere in that discomfort, I was reminded: rest is sacred.

I didn’t realise how deeply exhausted I had become until my body demanded stillness. And maybe that’s the cruel wisdom of getting sick—it forces us to listen to what we’ve long ignored.

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The Writer’s Guilt Complex

When you’re both an author and a nurse, guilt arrives in layers.
Guilt for not writing.
Guilt for being off work.
Guilt for not checking on your readers or responding to kind messages.

But I’m learning that creativity doesn’t die in stillness—it simmers quietly, waiting for you. And it doesn’t need you to “perform” every day. It just needs you to be honest when you return.

So here I am. Swollen nose and all.

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A Gentle Opportunity on the Horizon

While all of this was happening, I received an unexpected message.

I’ve been invited to a meeting with someone from the Communications team at our NHS Trust. They kindly reached out after learning about Mind the Bedpan. We’ll be chatting soon—just an informal conversation, really—about the possibility of sharing my story through one of the Trust’s internal or public channels.

It’s not a promise.
Nothing is confirmed.
But it means a lot just to be seen.

This little book—my heart stitched in chapters—might have a chance to reach more people who understand its language. Nurses, patients, readers who have stood on the same emotional battlegrounds.

I’m holding the opportunity gently. With open hands.
No expectations, just gratitude that someone thought it was worth a conversation.

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Let’s Talk About My Nose for a Second

Okay, let’s circle back to the elephant—or rather, the reindeer—in the room.
My nose. Yes, it’s swollen. Yes, it’s that red.
No, I’m not exaggerating. And no, I don’t want this kind of contour.

At one point I genuinely whispered to myself:
“I used to wish I had a more defined nose—but not like this, Lord. Not like this.”

It hurts to sneeze. It hurts to laugh.
But somehow, I laughed anyway—because sometimes humour is the only thing left when dignity is gone.

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What This Week Taught Me (That I Didn’t Know I Needed)

1. You can’t create from an empty cup. But you can refill it quietly.
2. The body knows. When it whispers, listen. When it screams, surrender.
3. Rest is not laziness. It’s repair. Especially when you carry not just patients—but your own untold stories.
4. Even when you feel unseen, your work is quietly doing the work.
5. Sometimes, just being here is enough.

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Coming Soon on the Blog: Topics to Watch Out For

1. “Behind the Scenes of Bedpan: What Didn’t Make the Book”
Stories that were too raw, too funny, or too sacred for the final pages.

2. “Why I Still Believe in Storytelling in Healthcare”
A reflection on the emotional power of lived narratives inside the NHS.

3. “Writing While Filipino: Identity, Culture, and Diaspora in My Work”
How heritage and healing intersect in every story I tell.

4. “Letters I’ll Never Send: From One Nurse to Another”
A new reflective series—quiet letters to the people I’ve met on the wards.

5. “Self-Publishing While Working Full-Time: My Real Talk Guide”
No fluff. Just the truth about writing and marketing your book with a stethoscope still around your neck.

6. “From Fever Dreams to Book Dreams: My Healing Playlist”
Songs that helped me survive the week and get back to the page.

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Thank you for being here. For reading. For checking in. For waiting.

Whether you’re a nurse, a reader, a fellow writer, or someone navigating your own kind of ache—know that your story matters. Even when it’s messy. Especially then.

Until the next post—hopefully with less Rudolph,
With warmth and weirdness,
AJ Gabriel