Tag: Blog

Never say never

Well, that was what I said when I left the hospital the first time – never again.

Guess what?

Three days later I was being taken by ambulance back to the hospital.

I went to see my local GP about a cough that wouldn’t let me speak, and I was having a little trouble breathing.

OK, I was having a lot of trouble breathing, so it was straight on oxygen.

As you can imagine I hate hospitals.  It’s where a lot of people go to die, and, for a short time, lying in my bed in Emergency, listening to all the possibilities of what was wrong with me, I started to believe it was my time.

Don’t ever consent to a nasal swab, it’s like having ear buds shoved up your nose and into your brain.  It hurts like hell, and makes your eyes run like taps.  This after the nurse said I would only have momentary discomfort.

It was still hurting three days later.

When the X-rays came back it was confirmed I had pneumonia.  A comparison with an X-ray from my first visit showed clouds where my lungs were, whereas the previous one had none.

It was thought I may had acquired it in hospital the first time.

So trying to find the bug was going to be far more intensive and painful than it being just an ‘ordinary’ case of pneumonia.  These bugs were more resistant to treatment and harder to track down.

The bad news, I wasn’t going anywhere for at least a week, possibly more.

It took 9 days to get over it and be well enough to be discharged.  For the first few days I could not breath without oxygen, and for the first five, I could do little other than lie down or sit up in bed.  A walk to the shower or toilet, about 10 yards at best, exhausted me.

So there was little to do other than observe the medical staff and other patients.

Enough research to fill several pads.

And when I was well enough, I spent some time writing.

Never let it be said there isn’t a silver lining in at least one of those clouds!

The story behind the story – Echoes from the Past

The novel ‘Echoes from the past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The birthday’.

My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.

Thus the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.

So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.

So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.

I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.

And like all re-writes, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.

There was motivation.  I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample.  I was going to give them the re-worked short story.  Instead I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’

Originally it was not set anywhere in particular.

But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself.  We were there for New Years, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.

One evening we were out late, and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow, it was cold and wet, and their were apartment building, and I thought, this is the place where my main character will live.

It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected.  I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.

I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.

Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy and man of few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party.  I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble.  No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.

Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule, and begins a relationship?

But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul, as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.

And, of course, I wanted a happy ending.

Except for the bad guys.

 

I’ve been missing …

I’ve learned a lot in the last few days about how badly you can screw up your life and not realize what’s happening until it’s almost too late.

Firstly, I’m taking a relatively small dose of methetrexate for psoriatic arthritis.  Things were good, well, as good as the can be, suffering the side effects because you are supposed to believe it’s controlling the problem.

Note: Psoriatic arthritis cannot be cured, only have its effects ‘managed’.  I have been on it for 15 months and to a degree it’s working.

The problems begin when you have other problems, and then it becomes a juggling act with all the pills that one has to take.

So, secondly, let’s assume that the medication regime for the first ailment, psoriatic arthritis is:

methetrexate

folic acid

panadol osteo (for pain management)

steroids, but only short term

Leflunomide (also for arthritis)

There’s the first problem, steroids work really well for arthritis.  Unfortunately the long term effect of using them is horrendous.

This leaves the second problem, pain management.  Panadol Osteo just doesn’t cut it.

This leaves you with generally with frequent periods of pain and the ugly side effects of dizziness in sunshine, constant nausea, and toilet problems.

But, for the really stupid, and believe me, I fit perfectly into that category, you can take Celebrex, a stronger form of ipbrufen, or you can take ipbrufen

It helps with the pain, but as I discovered, almost too late, it leads to acute kidney failure. Oh yes, and a lot of other unwanted problems.

Which brings us to thirdly, the fact I finished in hospital for quite a different reason altogether.

Methetrexate actually lessens the effectiveness of your immune system.  This can lead to all sorts of other complications and in my particular case, chest pain and short breath.

Several doctors considered this to be one of the side effects of methetrexate and reduced immune system leading to a respiratory infection.

I labored under the impression this was the problem this time but after three weeks I thought it was time to see a doctor.

An ECG and general check didn’t dispute this initial diagnoses, and for it I was put on a particular type of antibiotic.

Ok, this has side effects like rashing in the sun and badly behaving with methetrexate.  Ok, let’s hope it works.

But just in case he order a particular blood test to see if there was any cardiac issues.  It came back abnormally high and I was told to drop everything a get to a hospital.

I did.

So I’m getting all these tests for the possibility I was going to have an imminent heart attack, I lying on a bed in the emergency department, almost having a heart attack from being given the news that because I had psoriatic arthritis exponentially increases the possibility of having one.

The echo-cardiogram said I was not having a cardiac event.   Investigation of the symptoms pointed towards angina, but with a few more unpronounceable words either side.

But that was, the doctor said, the least of my problems.  The next minute he says my blood test has come back advising I had acute kidney failure, my kidneys had stopped working.

That explained a lot.

So, here’s the thing.  Pill juggling is not something we lay people should contemplate.  There’s a reason why you are asked to consult your doctor before taking any different medicine, particularly if it isn’t a prescribed medicine.

I have learned by bitter experience.

Do not take ipbrufen or any of its friends if you are on methetrexate.  If you do it will destroy your kidneys.  I was lucky it was caught in time.

And also there was another medication I take for high blood pressure, has a component in it that doesn’t help your kidneys either.

It means of course that you need to have a regular review of your medication regime, and regular blood tests to make sure the pill combinations aren’t killing you.

As I said I’m lucky.

Except I now have a problem with angina and the remedies for this are far, far scarier than my psoriatic arthritis.

That is, until I finished up in hospital again several days later with a far more serious problem.

Pneumonia.

Thoughts, maybe

It should come as no surprise that democracy is alive and well.

It should also not come as a surprise to finally discover that every vote counts, that you as an individual can make a very large difference in an election outcome.

And for those who don’t vote in a country where voting is optional, well, there’s no complaining when the result of an election doesn’t go your way.

I’ve always believed my single vote counted for nothing.

Not any more.

Thoughts, maybe

I’ve been thinking ….

… and that could be a good thing or a bad thing.

An idea had popped into my head, fired up from seeing the news on television.  I don’t normally look at the news if I can help it because usually its all bad, deaths, fires, drugs, and worst of all, politics.

This item was the equivalent of a two paragraph ‘mention’ buried on page six of the newspaper.

It was the umpteenth variation of a common story, wife having an affair, wife murdered, and, after seeing so many American and English cop shows, assumed the husband would be the number one suspect, no children involved mercifully, but there was something else going on, something I thought I could read between the lines.

No names were mentioned.

I’m not sure why it captured my imagination, but it did, and it swirled around in my head for about a week.

Then, out came a pad and pen and I started to write.

I put myself in the place of the husband and tried to imagine what it was like.

It is a work in progress.

A week or so later, another small paragraph appeared on page five, getting closer to the front page.

No names still because I assume the relative had not been tracked down.

But this alluded to something else as being the cause, and it was the manner of the death that warranted further investigation.

My imagination went into overdrive.

Rest assured I’ll be scouring the papers for the next ‘clue’.

 

Thoughts, maybe

It has any number of names, from Leave of Absence to Vacation, but it is meant to be a time where you can rest and relax.

And by the time you finally get to go away, preferably somewhere as far from home as possible, you are sure ready for it.

Those long days at the office, the decisions, the deadlines, the endless pressure of having to achieve the impossible all melt away when you walk out the door, and what a feeling it is when you tell everyone, ‘I’m off on holidays, see you when I get back.’

As anyone will tell  you, it’s not wise to travel the next day if at all possible, because you need some time to decompress before tackling what sometimes can be an arduous getting to the final destination, especially if it is at a peak holiday period, or on planes where anything and everything can go wrong very quickly.

Been there done that.

We traveled the next day, nothing went wrong, and all is fine.

Except …

As a writer and having spent the last few months finishing off my last novel, I was looking forward to some down time.  The editor has the final draft, and I’m happy.

Then, as it always does, the best laid plans of mice and men …

It all comes unstuck.

Inspiration often comes out of left field; something happens, a piece in a newspaper, an item on TV, or just lying down staring at the ceiling, when ‘bang’  it hits you.

The start of a story, a theme that you can run with.

Damn.

I’ve been away for four days now and written seven chapters and the words will not stop.

If only …

Hey, what a great title for the story.

Sorry, got to get back to work!

 

 

Conversations with my cat

20161004_162739-1

This is Chester.  He’s pushing his luck.

Yes, he had finally made up with my 13 year old grand daughter, but no, he cannot sleep on her pillow.

After getting admonished for sitting on the settee, he had now got a second serve for sleeping on her pillow.

Looks like it’s back to his chair!

 

Conversations with my cat

20161008_135142

This is Chester.  He has broken the agreement we had when we first bought the settee.

No cats allowed to sit on it.

Pleading will not cut it.  He is in serious trouble.

20161008_135120

No.  You cannot plead your case with Rosemary.

20161008_135131

Yes.  Hang your head in shame.

And get off the settee now!

My 800 words on writing

Writing is one of those occupations that requires a lot of hard work for, sometimes, very little output.  We, as writers, strive to produce a certain number of words per day, or, sometimes, just a few words just to keep oiling the machine and keeping it in working order.

When this creative process stops we tend to call it writer’s block, or something else entirely.  For me it is a point where I have lost the way, and the next chapter, scene, or plot development is not clear.  Time for a shower, sleep, or a walk in the park.

Other times, the creative processes are firing on all 12 cylinders and ideas, thoughts, plot lines, and words are pouring out of you like water over a waterfall at thaw time, or in a flood.

Sorry, shouldn’t be using metaphors, bad writing.

At the moment I have finished my next novel, yes, it sounds really good, and in itself, it gives me a sense of achievement.  In another sense it fills me with dread because I have to start editing, and, more importantly, make sure the first part of the book blends with the new developments that only occurred to me later.

Sometimes I go back and add notes at the appropriate place where the story needs to be corrected, or I just sit there and fix it on the spot.

But, editing is a horrible job.  Making sure of continuity, making sure the characters names didn’t change, or they suddenly go from being short, overweight and red hair to thin, tall and blonde hair.  Making sure the English is correct, grammar correct, spelling correct, and fore’s not confused with four’s.

And not start my sentences with and or but.  Sorry, again, bad habits die hard.

I have read that it’s a good idea to let that first draft sit on the shelf for a few weeks and let the dust settle around it, ruminating on it sub-consciously.  Good idea.  It’s another excuse to put off the inevitable.

So, is it time to have a holiday, take time out from the business of writing, or catch up with all that social media stuff, tweeting, facebooking, tumblring, instagramming, or whatever it is.  Oh yes, that’s right, as an indie author I have to do my own ‘pitching’ to the reading public.

Time to plan a campaign to get my title out there, and generate some interest.

Time in fact to hit the internet and see how others have done it.

42,647,345 hits on Google.  Damn, I didn’t think there were that many writers.  I’m starting to feel very, very insignificant in the greater scheme of things.

OK, that goes in the too hard basket for the moment.  Moving on.

On those days when the creative juices were on overdrive, I fill notebooks with the ideas for stories, short and long.  When out, waiting around for doctors, and others, I have my mobile phone which has a notebook type app called SomNote which I write.  I find it is very easy to lose oneself in a story when there is so much inspiration around.

These notes are then sent via email to my computer and stored in an email directory, ready for me to look at, at a later date.

That later date has arrived.

I start looking through the ‘ideas’ list, a cavalcade of story titles,

Amnesia- the story of a man who wakes up in hospital with amnesia, and then is led to believe he is someone other than who he is.  The plot needs some work, well, a lot of work.

The Will – the story of a grandson trying to stop the greedy and selfish siblings from selling out the family heritage, I’m sure I saw a British movie about this not so long ago

Mistaken Identity – The story of a man who is an illegitimate son, and has a brother who is both an evil man and his exact doppelganger.  He was never told about it, and comes face to face with his doppelganger in extraordinary circumstances.

Strangers in the night – no not the song, but a story about two disparate people who have no time for anything but work and career, who have a chance encounter.

Breaking the rules – a story about a pair of cat burglars who run into each other, on separate heists in the same building.  This has potential.

More than three hours have passed, I’ve been reading the stories, notes, plotlines, and staring at the ceiling looking for inspiration.

Chester, our cat, my friend and confidant, always likes the last word.  He wanders into the office, climbs up on the chair and sits, selecting the pile of papers for The Will.

It will be the title of my next book

Conversations with my cat

20160928_161422

This is Chester.  It has been a long, hard day.

Don’t be fooled into thinking he’s asleep.

He isn’t.

It’s late afternoon, and he’s done his rounds, sitting at the back door, the side door, and the front door.

We’re having a continual discussion about food, which, at the moment, he is being very fussy about.

I’ve sent him to bed without dinner.  I can see this is going to be another test of wills.