I must apologise for the confusion yesterday, as I have no idea why everything got so mixed up. If you didn’t notice, please ignore this post!
Today was supposed to be a good day, concentrating on doing all the things I enjoy, like creating a book trailer and working on more promotion ideas. So far, it has not been a walk in the park.
There had obviously been more tinkering going on overnight. The minute I logged on, I was plagued by something called Mcafee, insisting I had five viruses on my computer and simply must use their magic to get rid of them. Persistent little bugger, it just wouldn’t go away!
Then, I found that I couldn’t log into my emails. Apparently, they thought my provider didn’t exist anymore. Well, I spent the next hour checking everything I could think of, my temper growing all the time. Not sure what worked, but all of a sudden, my emails appeared, and I could start work.
That was roughly when I discovered I had posted the wrong material under a totally different heading yesterday. God knows what the recipient thought I was doing! I can only surmise that I need to take it easy for the rest of the day, give my poor brain time to catch up…
Today, we offer you another of my sister’s beautiful poems for your delectation…
I am keeping busy, desperately trying to organise the book launch for Ghost of a Chance, with a brain that is suffering a little under the new meds. Something tells me I should have waited, but stubborn is as stubborn does, isn’t it?
This phrase has been running around in my head for days, and I’m pretty sure it has something to do with my present marketing endeavours for my latest story, Ghost of a Chance.
Marketing is not the easiest thing to do, at least with any degree of success, especially nowadays. Despite what else is going on, I am determined to stick with my plan.
Although I am presently running around like a headless chicken, preparing my latest work of art (I hope) for its release on 27th September, I have wanted to write a post on our other development.
Not an easy post to write, which is why I have been dragging my heels, but I need to write it to get it out of my head.
Since escaping from the hospital last week, I have been trying not to think about it. Especially what may or may not happen next.
Two years ago, when my sister had her massive heart attack, it was touch and go for weeks as they tried desperately to stabilize her. Once that was accomplished, they seemed to forget about her. Follow-up appointments fail to arrive, despite our doctor’s intervention. We do know what to do if the need arises, and they probably rely on that.
Fast forward to the present day and my own heart problems. After failing to unblock my artery, I was sent home with medication clearly designed to prevent any more blockages from developing. Supposedly, an appointment will follow at some point. Four to six weeks was mentioned for another procedure, but as the days pass, I have stopped waiting for the letter to arrive.
Maybe we are too old for them to worry about it anymore?
We have been made comfortable, and hopefully, we will stay that way.
This plant is called Honesty, one of my favourites…
It is Sunday.
Time to take a moment to catch my breath and my thoughts.
One of these should be easy, but not sure about the other.
To be honest, I don’t think that trying to catch my thoughts will be possible, as some of them have been safely packed away in a box, deliberately out of reach.
This is sometimes necessary to make it through the day without screaming.
I often wonder what other people do when that elephant takes up residence. I suspect, like me, they ignore it for a while, hoping it will wander off and find somewhere else to play.
Because I cannot do anything about this particular elephant, I must pretend he’s not here.
Just like I pretend there isn’t a blockage on one of my arteries…
Or a certain member of my family’s health seems to be slowly deteriorating…
Or that I haven’t a clue how we will manage if the bills get any bigger…
There… that’s all of it back in the box; now I can concentrate on all the good stuff.
Luckily, there is still a lot of it around if you know where to look…
Just when I thought it was safe to go back into the water, Microsoft Word has stopped working, and nothing I do has made it turn up. So, I have been forced to see if Google Docs is as good as they say… and I must admit, it’s not bad…
At the moment, this is what the inside of my head feels like.
Medication never seems to agree with me, and the ones they gave me to help shift the blockage in my artery have been no exception. I keep hoping my body will get used to them and that the pea soup in my head will fade and let me get on with my work.
I am managing the basics, but my brain falters even with the easy stuff. I am used to my brain having more holes than that cheese I love, but the last few days have been ridiculous. I still have the WIP to finish and work on the launch material for the 27th. I have been trying to write a blog post, but the original idea has taken a walk.
This post is to let you know I am doing well, I think! and to let you know, I really appreciated all your hugs and good wishes last week…
The QA hospital is one huge building, been around since 1904. Parts of it are old and past their best. After twelve hours of sitting in the emergency department, they sent me to one of these old wards.
This ward was not the cleanest place I have ever been in. It was shabby and untidy, and the staff seemed like robots on automatic pilots. An assessment ward is where they put you if unsure of your treatment. Eventually, I would be moved and secretly quite glad of that.
After a few hours, a couple of porters turned up to take me somewhere else. I thought I would walk there, but no. I was told to climb on the bed, and off we went.
I assumed, wrongly, it turned out that my destination would be nearby, but it was on the other side of the hospital, so it was a long ride.
The ward I found myself in couldn’t have been more different. The minute they pushed my bed and me through the door, the patients already there cheered and welcomed me.
It was at the top of the building. It looked new, bright and airy, spacious and cheerful. I was really impressed. The view from the windows was amazing. I could see the sea and most of Portsmouth, including the Spinnaker Tower.
The difference didn’t stop there. In the other ward, you always had to ask for things, like fresh water or help. Here in this ward, chilled water arrives regularly as if by magic. I would only be there for a few days, but those lovely ladies made a sorry occasion much better.
So, time to tell you the bad news.
It had been eleven years since my first heart attack and subsequent stent, so I was expecting more of the same. After my arrival in the Cath Lab yesterday, for what was going to be quick and easy like the last time, I was confident that my troubles were over.
The time went by, and after a while, I knew something was wrong. And when the technician approached me with one of the saddest faces and quietly said, ‘I am sorry, my hopes fled.
There was a blocked artery, but it was hiding behind the stent they put in last time. I wonder how often that happens? They had tried several times to clear the blockage and had to admit defeat. I had the feeling this didn’t happen very often, judging by his face. Later, the consultant explained that it resisted because the blockage had been growing for a while.
Hearing this, I felt really guilty. This had to be my fault, as I have ignored the signs for ages, not wanting to upset Anita and cause her more problems. Her heart problems are so much worse than mine!
So, I have come home with new medication to ease the problem, but if it doesn’t do the trick, there is another procedure they can do to solve the problem. They seemed reluctant to do it yet, so I wonder why they didn’t do it while I was spreadeagled on the table…
I don’t suppose for a minute that I am the only writer who is never happy with their book covers.
Every time I think I have found THE ONE, it’s not long before the doubts start to arrive, and I am convinced it’s just not good enough.
I know this is something all artists have trouble with. For some reason, we are never satisfied with what we have created. I have often wondered why this is.
The original cover for The Scarlet Ribbon is a case in point. We have never been happy with it, but just couldn’t imagine a better one, considering it is such an unusual story.
After much soul searching and nail-biting, we have finally changed the cover. We think this one suits the genre rather well. Of course, we would love to know your thoughts!
We are sharing this groundbreaking news (at least it was for us!) with a recent fantastic review from D.L.Finn.
4.0 out of 5 stars Seeking answers on the other side.
“Scarlet Ribbon” is a story that made me wonder about the afterlife and what is in between. Maggie was out with her husband when she was run down by a car. She ended up in a coma for two long years, but her time became relative as she found herself in a strange place. Her body was in the hospital, but her mind or soul was experiencing a different reality. While she was under, she could see what her husband was doing and was taken to other worlds and the past. She wanted to help, especially a young girl. There was cruelty and a blissful existence that coincided in the different places. As she seeks answers to her dilemma, she finds out more than she wanted to about how sheltered a life she had and people’s true side. I have always wondered what goes on when people are in a coma, and this was a fascinating idea of what could happen. There never seems to be one simple answer or outcome to Maggie’s desires. I love her determination to do what is right, but within her new world, I felt her confusion as she bounced from one situation to another. I was rooting for the person she connected with on the other side. The story picked up the pace when she emerged from the coma, and work began for her to heal and try to remember. The ending was a surprise but didn’t feel done just yet. I hope there are more versions of her life to come and I will be reading them.
Thank you from the bottom of our hearts, Denise, for this wonderful review for The Scarlet Ribbon!