There Is No Friday Fiction – My Excuse Is…

You might have noticed a lag, longer than usual, between posts. I have a very good reason. Honest.

Last Thursday, it became necessary for me to make the acquaintance of my local EMT’s and ambulance crew. From there, I was introduced to the local hospital, various doctors and surgeons, and in the journey, I lost a body organ along the way. Not the heart, lungs, or other necessary hardware, but the Evil Gall Bladder was ousted from its cozy nest and banished to the Underworld where it totally belongs. May it rot there for all eternity.

It was not as nearly as smooth as that. There were Complications, Torturous Tests Requiring the Consumption of Noxious Potions, False Alarms of Nefarious and Unfriendly Growths, and one doctor almost lost his balls (possibly a tooth; the punch went askew, I actually have no idea where it ultimately landed; I blame the drugs) during an Endoscopy Gone Wild, which led to Really Putting The Bitch Down With Major Pharmaceuticals and the second attempt was, at last and to the relief of all involved, deemed a success. A Mysterious and Agonizing Pain put discharge out of the question for yet another day, necessitating more Torturous Tests and Noxious Potions (note to all: do not puke up the Noxious Potions. They will only make you drink them again) to ascertain that my body was just becoming acclimated to the addition of a Foreign Object meant to make life easier. We did not get off on the right foot, this Foreign Object and I, but we have since come to a truce so all is well. I know I won’t be breaking the treaty.

This is the first writing of a public nature I have done in eight days, other than a thank-you limerick to a sonneteer with no peer.

This all happened in the middle of starting Chapter 16, which has really pissed me off.

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The body is a dictator. Any control I though I had was illusion. I get it. Now.

I’m in recovery mode, and plan on taking it really easy (probably much harder than it sounds) but if the Universe thinks by peeing in my wheaties it’s gonna stop me, it’s got another think coming. I’m going to make my goal of a finished novel by September 30th, oh yes I am. One fucking word at a time, if that’s how it’s gotta go.

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IF I am lucky enough to sell this book, I know where the money’s going. Uninsured, the proceeds will all go to the nice people who rid me of the Organ From Hell, and I’ll consider it money well spent. Although, I did have it earmarked for a nice yacht, a working body needs to be the priority. If you aren’t on the universal health care bandwagon, jump on. I have no complaints about my care (other than the Endoscopy thing, and I think I got my pound of flesh on that one, heh) and I was grateful I even received care with no money and no insurance. I consider myself very, very lucky. And I’m sure I’ll add to that tab when I get the bills and find out I’ll have to sell my soul to Lucifer just to break even.

Gah. Not thinking about that now.

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One last thing and then I have to take a nap (I see a lot of naps in my future, so I do):

Nursing is THE most underpaid, undervalued, and underrated profession on the motherfucking planet. Seriously. My nurses were absolutely fabulous (except for one aide, who has no business in the business, but that’s just one person and there were many) and I never would have gotten through this without them. They were tireless, empathetic, sympathetic, supportive, and just amazing people. There is a special place in Valhalla for each and every one of them — they have my undying respect, admiration, and affection forever. All good blessings to you, my lovelies. I might not remember all of you (there were some mighty fine drugs) but I’ll never forget your care, and I appreciate it more than I can ever express.

Onward.