MERRY CHRISTMAS!

First I'd like to wish all my followers and anyone reading this a safe and very Merry Christmas. Thank you all for following/visiting my blog.

And then I'd like to say thank you to all the people in the military and their families.
I'm sorry if you're miles away from your loved ones and on duty somewhere. :(  God bless you for all you do and for keeping our country safe and for all the sacrifices you make in doing so. <3 Wishing you all a Merry Christmas.



And a special prayer for those who lost loved ones this year. May peace and comfort find you and hold you tight. And may broken hearts be filled with good memories. I pray that God will give you the courage and strength to carry on until the day comes when you can hold them again and walk with them in Heaven. There's no greater sorrow than the loss of a child. God bless.

 It's been a difficult year for many people, may the New Year be better for all. God bless and keep safe.

Eggnog and rum for all.

My life flows like

ink

overturned upon

A blank page

 No rhyme or reason

It has no purpose

But my eyes are drawn

To the black liquid just the same

 I watch

As it consumes the paper

I try to make sense of its pattern

Though it makes no sense at all

 I glance out the window

As the storm moves in

The wind wails

And the rain begins to fall

 The moon whispers my name

Raising my head, I ask

Did you see my tears,

Glistening in your soft light?

 But the dark clouds roll in

And I'm alone again

The night, now

as black as the stain upon my paper

 There's a slope to my desk

And the ink has reached

The paper's boundaries

Slowly, I turn the page sideways

 The ink is halted

Suspended, confused

But only for a moment

And then it changes directions

 And flows once more

Looking for freedom

Crossing old paths

And finding new ones

 It falters, and ever so

Slightly goes off course

Seeking  direction

To escape its confinement

 Leaving behind

Some of its mass

As it searches for its way

blindly in the sea of white

 Momentum lost

But it moves

Onward until it

Reaches the edge once more

 Freedom in sight

Using most of its energy

It tries to break past the boundary

And I turn the page once more

Slowly, it falls back

Now just a drop, small and weak

No longer able to find new paths

So it trudges down old ones

 But even this

Takes its toll

And drains its substance

Until there is nothing left

 And slowly the ink dries

Forever in time, just a small

Stain among the paths of its life

Within the page's boundaries

 At first glance

The ink pattern

Seems a mess

A waste of a blank page

 And then the moon

Shines once more

And beauty can be seen

Amid Intricate patterns

 

I wonder what paths

It would've chosen

If it had only been stronger

And had not lost so much of itself

 More white than black

Is left on the page

And  I find sadness

In paths untaken

 The page's edges

Had become prison walls

Its blank areas merely

Dreams unfulfilled

 

My life flows like

ink

overturned upon

a blank page

What I'm working on now - The Next Big Thing




Fellow author Sharon Robards tagged me for the online game The Next Big Thing: A blog circle where authors have a chance to discuss their current works in progress/ what they’re currently working on now.


Next Big Thing:


What is your working title of your book?

The Indigos..sub title- One of Us


Where did the idea come from for the book?
I've always been drawn to stories/movies about the end of civilization.


 What genre does your book fall under?

Apocalyptic/Horror


Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I wanted to jump in and say Paul Walker, but unfortunately he's not young enough for my MC, and Sean Bean should be in it just because he's in everything. But seriously, maybe Emile Hirsch for my male mc and Ryan Newman for the female.


What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

After the fall of civilization, Jacob and his new friends must fight for survival as they travel across country in search of his younger brother, while seeking others like them.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I'll be looking for an agent.


How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Two years and ongoing


What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

The Road, I Am Legend


Who or what inspired you to write this book?

My daughter, son, and brother are my inspiration as well as my friends from Absolute Write. Having people that believe in you is a powerful thing. I enjoy books/movies like I am Legend, The Road, The Book of Eli, Children of Men, etc, so that's what I chose to write.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Jacob believes that he and his group are the "normal" humans left, definitely not like the Dements that stalk and eat everything, but he may find out that they're not the normal ones after all.

I’ve tagged this diverse group of writers to join in the game.


Vincent Morrone    http://vincentmorrone.com/?p=160

Rhoda Nightingale http://glitter-n-gore.livejournal.com/

Honey Boudreaux http://honeyboudreaux.weebly.com/blog-about-writing.html


Message for the tagged authors and interested others:




Your post should be up by Tuesday of next week--(11/27) Tuesday 27th November. I hope you all have fun with this, and thanks for joining me. I've posted the "rules" below: Please tune into these blogs the week of November Tuesday 27th and check out their posts!

Include the link of who tagged you and this explanation for the people you have tagged.


Rules of the Next Big Thing
***Use this format for your post
***Answer the ten questions about your current WIP (work in progress)
***Tag five other writers/bloggers and add their links so we can hop over and meet them.

Ten Interview Questions for the Next Big Thing:

What is your working title of your book?
Where did the idea come from for the book?
What genre does your book fall under?
Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
Who or what inspired you to write this book?
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
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While you’re waiting for those new posts next week, be sure to visit Sharon Robards who tagged me, as well as any other participants in The Next Big Thing.

Have questions about my current work in progress, One of Us? Feel free to leave them in the comments and Thank you for reading and visiting my blog. :)

Veteran's Day

I just wanted to say thank you to all of you in the military, their families, and the veterans. Thank you for all you've sacrificed to keep our nation safe and free. My heart and prayers go out to each of you. May God bless you all. Thank you for all you've done and for all you continue to do for this country. <3

 

Sending prayers to all that were affected by Hurricane Sandy. Such a devastating monster of a storm...so many lives lost and lives turned inside out by this. :( May God give you strength and comfort in your time of need. I know that you are a tough lot--you East Coasters-- and that you'll rebound, but so sorry you had to go through it. God bless you and the people stepping up to help in this disaster. And God bless the ones that lost their lives or lost loved ones. Peace and love to you all.

Luckily, all the friends I know online have reported in and are safe. But the destruction this hurricane caused is devastating. God be with you all. *hugs*

Fallen Angel

God placed his hand upon the angel's head, ever so gently.

"Where's thy wings, my child?"

"Consumed by the fire, Father."

"And where is thy halo?"

"Snatched by mine enemies."

"And where is thy heart?"

"Buried beneath the ashes."

"And what would thou have me do then?"

"Take what is left of mine soul and let me fly once more. But leave mine heart, for it is broken and of no use to me anymore."

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVbkz_3lO3c

Happy Halloween

The shadows dance upon my wall. Cringing, I dig deeper into the covers. The wind howling as it violently shakes the window making the branches outside screech against the pane. I know that I'm not alone and in one hand I clench my dagger whilst the other clutches tightly to the cross which hangs from a leather cord around my neck. I repeatedly say the Lord's Prayer.

 

"Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name..."

 

The lantern will not stay lit even though it's shuttered from any drafts that may come in from under the door or windows. I only have the pale moonlight from the window to see by, leaving most of the room in dark shadows. It's a cold night and I think about going into the main room where I can keep warm by the fireplace, but I know if I move it will strike, perhaps leaping on my back and sinking its teeth into my neck. So I sit shivering on my bed with the covers pulled up around me.

 

Praying gives me little courage, but still I whisper, "I know you're there. I can hear you breathing. Be gone ye demon for I fear thee not."  I do believe I hear a snort or grunt. I can imagine it having red eyes, though I cannot see them, and razor-like teeth. I hold up my dagger and the moonlight dances across its blade.

 

"You see, I am armed and I will not go down without a fight, so best you go prey upon an easier victim," I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

 

Shuffling. Was that shuffling I heard or was it merely my imagination? I press my back against the headboard and brace myself for the attack, but the beast remains hidden from my sight.

 

This time, I raise the cross into the light. "I know you're there, I can smell you. You smell of  rotting corpses and all that is foul and unholy. But I fear ye not, for you see, I am protected."

 

 All remained silent except for the wind and trees and I was growing weary. This was the third night that I felt the demon in the room. Three sleepless nights and I feared that I would succumb to the lure of sleep for my eyelids felt as if they were made of lead. Head nodding, the darkness threatened to plunge me into a deep sleep--one that I'd very much welcome if only there wasn't a demon in the corner waiting for me to collapse.

 

"I am a man of faith," I mumbled. "Go now and let me be. I will not sleep so that you can slit my throat and feed upon me during the night. God gives me strength and power so I say to you, demon, begone. In the name of--"

 

The words catch in my throat as the shadows move, and from the corner of my room a form emerges breaking away from the darkness and stepping into the moonlight. I gasp as it opens its mouth revealing rows of long, sharp teeth. Its eyes burn into mine as it flexes its long, steely claws. The leather chord snaps as I strain my arm out in front of me, using the cross as a shield. My heart now in my throat I find it difficult to breathe.

"Leave... me be," I managed to stammer, waving the dagger in front of me, though now it felt completely inadequate against the demon that stood before me. So I did the only thing I could think of--I prayed. "I will fear no evil, though I walk through the valley of dea--" 

 

"Enough," the demon hissed. "For crying out loud! Don't you ever sleep? Who knew humans babbled on and on with no end in sight? I haven't slept in three nights! I got more rest in hell. Fuck this, I'm out of here."

 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!!  Hope you enjoyed the story. :D

Crossing Over

Just posting a small excerpt of one of my short stories, mainly because I want to show off the cover my brother made for me in case I want to self-pub it. Though at the moment I'm trying the subbing thing. :D

Crossing Over
Horror, Short Story, by t.pittman

A movement to his left caught Brian's eye as he turned his head to peer out the driver's window. The cloud seemed to be thinning and he could see a woman rising up between the pickup and the railing; without thinking he reached for the door handle. His first reaction was to get out and help her, but something in her movement stopped him. She reminded him of a puppet--as if someone was pulling her strings. Her arms jerked upwards while her legs worked beneath her rigidly trying to force the rest of her body into a standing position. Brian sat frozen as she turned towards the window. Her eyes were red and drops of blood fell from the corners like tears. Brian remembered seeing a dog with eyes like that once; it had been hit by a car: internal bleeding. He wondered if she had gotten trampled on.

 

^This is not a link^

but if you click on it, it will enlarge the picture

If you'll notice, in the bottom left corner...it's the dragon I did in front of a moon. :D

Been Busy...

Geez, it's been a while since I posted...well, not that long.

Work has been murder on me. We've been short handed, down by three people and right in the middle of inventory time. So I've been working overtime and went in on my day off to help with inventory. This leaves little time for blogging, writing, or drawing. :/

And as I write this, I should be sleeping because I have an all day shift tomorrow. New people have been hired, but they're still in training so it'll be a week or so before my schedule gets back to normal and then... the holidays. ugh! Yes, the holidays have arrived for retail stores already, we have Halloween candy in the stockroom.

Anyway an update on my writerly things...

I have a short story, Lest Ye Forget, that I need to get subbed out again. Got positive feedback from last editor so trying it again elsewhere...

My short story, Crossing Over, needs a few tweaks and then I'll sub it out. It's kind of long, though, so if no one wants it I may try to self-pub it on Amazon. I was going to do that to begin with, but friends thought I should try subbing it out first. So, I'll give it a shot.

And then there's my novel, WIP-- One of Us. It still needs at least one more chapter to finish the first draft. Funny when I started writing it I wrote for five months straight and had it almost complete. But when I got down to the final chapters, I just sputtered out. And now I can't even force myself to open it up.  :(

Oh, and I entered a writing contest at Absolute Write. A short story. A very kind writer donated money for the winner and 2nd and 3rd place. So I figured I'd give that a shot.

So, that's what I'm doing this month. It's difficult with my job hours, but I'm not giving up. Nor will I give up on getting published. Weary and tired, but still hopeful. :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5J1F9g4IZM&feature=autoplay&list=FL5RjogWbE035lOannv6ZhEg&playnext=2

The Man of My Dreams, No Really- He was just a Dream

I feel my hand in his as I lay my head against his chest. So real, so tangible, and yet I keep a firm grasp around his neck, never taking my eyes away in fear that he'll disappear.

 Don't do this, my inner voice warns, you know how this turns out.

 And all the while I feel the walls around my heart crumbling as I stare into his blue eyes.

 It's okay, I tell myself. I know it's merely a moment in time, not an eternity. Let me enjoy it as long as it may last. But my heart is not happy  and it warns me of the consequences- of the pain to come.

 And then he smiles at me and my heart is won over as well.

 "You've been waiting a long time," he says quietly.

 "All of my life," I whisper in his ear, and then he kisses me.

 "I'll love you forever," he says.

I suppose he thought that the tears in my eyes were from happiness or were created out of love. Little did he know that forever held no meaning in this world-- in his world. There was no forever and when this time came to an end, I'd never see him again. He was just one moment, one second, out of an entire lifetime...

But for now, he was mine. Within his arms and with every word he spoke, I felt more love than I'd ever known in real life. Perhaps because he was created just for me and only lived because I gave him life. But his strong arms, the touch of his hand, and the warmth of his breath upon my neck felt as real as any man and I was torn between sadness and contentment.

My hand clenched tightly to his shirt and I never took my eyes off of him, and yet, even so, it did not stop the scene from changing.

I was no longer in his arms; he now stood several feet away. My heart fell as I stretched my arm out to him.

"I have to go," he said.

 And I felt the knife in my heart, twisting ever so slowly.

  "No," I pleaded. "We still have time. Stay with me."

 "I can't."

I knew that no matter what I said he was going to leave, but hoping against hope I said, "Then I'll go with you." And for a moment, I almost believed that that was possible as I moved towards him, tears flowing as I reached for his hand.

 "You can't go where I'm going," he said. " But I won't be gone long." He gave me a gentle smile and a look that said 'you worry too much'.

As I opened my mouth to beg him, to tell him...he leaned in and kissed me and held me one last time.

"I love you," he said, kissing me on the forehead before he stepped back. "I'll be back soon. I love you forever."

 If only he had understood, then I don't think he would've let me go.

And as I tried to think of something to say that would make him understand he vanished into the dark recesses of my mind.

The pain was unbelievable as if someone that I loved had died. I fell to my knees and sobbed so hard that it woke me up.

 I laid there with my eyes closed trying to recapture the feel of his arms around me, the love in his eyes, the feel of his hand in mine.

My pillow was wet from the tears that were still ongoing. The pain of loss still lingered in my chest. I kept my eyes closed, refusing to let him go even though he was already gone.

And eventually I drifted back to sleep, but the dreams stayed behind a black curtain and did not reveal themselves.

I can still see his face and I wonder if he's somewhere in the darkness trying to find his way back to me and then I feel an old, familiar pain rise just below the surface.

I often laugh at how absurd I am. But, hey, he kind of looked like Brad Pitt! So all is justified. I'm not crazy at all.  :D

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdW5Nt5Cd7Y&feature=fvwrel

Just Wanted to Say Thank You

With working forty plus hours a week, editing, writing, subbing, and beta reading-- I've had little time to keep up with my blog, and even less time for keeping up with everyone else's. Which makes me feel bad because so many of you have read mine or at least parts of it.

So, I just wanted to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and/or comment on my blog, and for your continuing support. I'm following more blogs right now than I could ever possibly read, but hoping I can get some time to drop in on a few in the near future when things aren't so hectic.

I appreciate and cherish your comments. Thank you so very much for reading. <3

Dragon's Journal

It's not easy living alone in a time that is not yours. Once a mighty, powerful beast-- now chained by a society that wants to keep me beaten down. And though the chains upon my legs and neck are invisible, they are binding all the same. And I know that I'll never break free; I'll never fly. My wings are broken and my spirit is crushed under the weight of my captor's chains.

My cave is falling down around me and the water has been dried up for over a year. Food is scarce and what little I can get comes at a high price. Day and night they try to take my cave, they try to beat the will to live out of me. But I sustain, and survive the best I can.

I toil my life away, my feet and back ache, but I work consistently, and yet it is still not enough for them. Through sweat and tears, I put one foot in front of the other, but day by day I grow more weary. A heart once strong and full of dreams and love is now just a vessel filled with pain and despair. I long to be free; I long to fly.

I look upon the heavens and let out a mournful cry, but get no reply. I am alone, perhaps the last of my kind.

Fire has turned into nothing more than mere smoke-- and dreams into ashes. The chains tighten around my neck threatening to choke out my very existence.

 I used to have dreams of another dragon, one of light like a bright star on the horizon. One that would one day come and break these chains that bind me--one that would free me from my oppressors. But now my nights are restless, I sleep little and dream no more. I grow old and weak as my enemies grow stronger, and soon the last dragon will be a passing thought in the minds of those who remember of a time when dragon wings spread gracefully in blue skies and shined with the promise of magic and light in an otherwise bleak world. Afterall what is life without magic? Without dreams of what could be? What is a land without dragons?

Dragon's Land/Flying with Broken Wings-- a WIP.

RIP RAY BRADBURY

I had no idea of Ray Bradbury's death until I read Rhoda's blog
http://glitter-n-gore.livejournal.com/13155.html

I have no words to convey the feelings I have on losing this great writer. Though, it's been a while since I read one of his books, he has always been and will always be an inspiration to me. God rest his soul.

Bradbury 1920-2012

Tormented Soul

         I have lived a million years. I have loved and lost; I've lived and died many times over. I watch the world as an outsider, always keeping my distance. My mind reels at the cruelty and evil that abounds before me. I pity the victims who have been mistreated, abused, and unjustly accosted. I do not put myself in the victim category, but I can sympathize.

I watch from afar, lovers hand in hand, affectionate hugs-tender kisses and I cringe at the sight, seeing only the pain yet to come. I wonder when they will know of its sharp sting. I am saddened to know that they will one day feel the pain in which I've felt.

Innocent babes, God's children. Once rocked and basked in their Father's love.

 Souls of purity. I ponder on why he chose to cast them down into a cold, relentless

world of little compassion and unthinkable evil. Pure, loved souls suddenly subjected

 to pain, hate, greed, and despair. I don't have the answers, I just watch and mourn as

 these souls are twisted and molded into something else.

        I have strayed from God; I have been lost. I have wandered the world alone,

seeking  answers that will not come, looking for shelter, but finding none. I have been

beaten and tortured. I've faced death and evil many times, some battles I overcame

bearing the scars and the bitter-sweet taste of victory—some I did not. Some of me has died,

or

 gotten lost along my travels. I seek a way to fill in the missing pieces, but the holes

are too vast and the wounds run too deep. Am I a victim of this cruel world?

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Many bad decisions and wrong  paths taken have led me to

where I am today, much blame rests upon my shoulders. It weighs me down; my

 legs often feel as if they are made of lead as I search for the light. Always seeking,

 always praying. I am, after all, God's child. The light is before me, I just can't see it; I 

can't get myself clear from the darkness that shrouds my soul, my heart, and my mind.

I close my eyes and see no dreams. Only remnants of the ones I buried long ago. Sometimes they prod at me, trying to come back to life. I force them back into their cold graves where they belong. I have no room for them in my life and they will not tease me as they've done before. My heart is steel and I wear my armor proudly. Not invincible, but less vulnerable as I was in my youth. I'm a warrior—a survivor, and I carry on with what strength I have left. Hardened by life, but a heart still soft and gentle when it comes to family, friends, and children.

I fight armies alone; I hold the world on my shoulders. Enemies come and I stand my ground, even when I'm attacked from all sides. Sometimes the battles are won—sometimes lost. It's the way of things, but a way that I'm well accustomed to.

I look upon the mountains, the sky, the trees, and the moon for answers. I look towards God, and sigh, for I know that I am unworthy. I relentlessly seek a path that will lead me to peace, contentment, and understanding, but I am blind so I travel in darkness. I wish to bring light, love, and joy to others, but the way is unclear and beyond me. Sadness veils my heart--despair clouds my mind.

Upon knees, I fall and weep at my own sins. I cry out to God, begging for his forgiveness and mercy. My strength is drained and it's a struggle to rise again, to fight the overpowering urge to surrender—to give up.

The sun rises; the sun sets. I stare up at the moon; it repels the darkness. And I breathe again.

I've seen tell-tale signs of kindness, truth, compassion, and even love. So, I go along my way-- seeking, searching in chance that I may stumble across it or catch a glimpse of such things again before I die.

Dreams poke and prod, I shove them down. I walk tall, though I've been battered and am weak. I walk alone. Watching, seeking, grasping for something unknown.

         I am a warrior- I am what I am, but I'd rather be a babe of purity basking in my

Father's arms.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5KcRl1p2waM&list=FL5RjogWbE035lOannv6ZhEg&feature=mh_lolz

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tH2w6Oxx0kQ&feature=mr_meh&list=FL5RjogWbE035lOannv6ZhEg&playnext=0

Post Apocalyptic Survivor?

Do you picture yourself as a warrior? A Daryl or perhaps even a Shane? (The Walking Dead) or Eli (Book of Eli). Are you carrying a sword and hacking off zombie heads, even though you never wielded a sword in your life. Or maybe you're an expert marksman and shooting them between the eyes, even though you've never even owned a gun. Will you be the one to outwit, outman, and outarm the cannibals or the rebels that are after your food, water, and your life? Of course you will be, because you're just cool like that.

But in all reality& (nonreality) if zombies rose from the depths of death, or an epic virus spread across the nation, or in the case of global nuclear warfare- most of us will be the first to die, or a lot of us would be the zombies. But what fun is it to imagine that you're a corpse or a slow, dead-brained, walking heap of rotting meat?

Would you, if you were like one of the perhaps twenty-five percent that live, search out others? Safety in numbers. Or would you be the bad ass loner that feels that others only hinder your survival? Would you share what little food you had or help someone who is surrounded by enemies? Or say, "Screw that!" Would you even shoot someone in the leg to insure your own escape if necessary, or unnecessary (yes, a Shane reference, just gotta love that guy unless you're the one he shot in the leg and got left for zombie bait).

But who do you think has the best chance at survival? Maybe someone in the military? After all they are trained for combat. Or maybe someone who lives in the mountains away from society? The only problem is, is that they won't know what's going on and ignorance isn't always bliss when a zombie is standing over your bed. A cop? A killer? A trained assasin, or maybe a stealthy ninja?
Or maybe you?


I imagine that I'll be kick ass with my sword and dagger (yes, I have those). Have I ever used them? er...no, but that matters not because I'll instantly become the greatest swordmaster, warrior, and zombie slayer ever because I have a big imagination. Cower in the corner and become zombie bait?! I think not. hehee, I'll no doubt be one of the first to die, just a pile of bones on the corner. Not from zombies, war, or nuclear fall-out, but from the loss of the internet. I'm pretty sure I won't survive that.

How do you picture yourself in a post apocalyptic world?

*novel research*

and well hell, just for the fun of it. :D

Happy Mother's Day

Want to wish all you mothers out there a Happy Mother's Day. I hope it was a good day for all of you. :)

I spent the day with my darling daughter. Now that she's grown and married I don't get to see her nearly enough. Memories dance in my mind of when she was young and it's hard to think of her as all grown up now. And my boy is also married and now has two children of his own. Strange how time passes so quickly and we don't even know it. Seems as if they'll be young forever, then you wake up one day and they're graduating. Then before you know it they're married, out of the house, and having children of their own. And it makes us old, or at least we feel that way.

I remember a small hand in mine, bedtime stories, a smile, tears, monsters in the closet, the sound of little feet, the laughter, the questions, the giggles, eyes wide in awe at something new, first steps, bedtime denials, funny things they said, a hug, a kiss, a cherished moment caught on camera, watching them as they slept, worrying when they were hurt or ill, a tug on my pants, dancing and singing, school plays, and a constant stream of mom? mom? mom? mom? These are some of the things that I'll always remember and cherish. And then came the teenage years, but lets not spoil the moment. :D

And while I am not the best mother in the world, they are my world.<3 I hope they know that I love them and that they forgive me for my mistakes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYHT-TF4KO4&feature=autoplay&list=FL5RjogWbE035lOannv6ZhEg&playnext=8

Return to the Hospital

To catch some of my blog friends up on to what's been happening with me...

I got really low on blood before my scheduled surgery and could not wait, I had to go back to the home of the horrible coffee. A day in and still they could find no blood for me. My bloodtype is common, however I've had so many transfusions that the anitbodies/antigens no longer match any other blood.

Second day in- blood drops from a hemoglobin of 5.9 to 3.6. Nurses, doctors all seem worried. They keep asking for names of relatives and telling me to stay awake. That's all I remember. They move me into ICU. I remember seeing my doctor at some point in time, but don't really remember what was said.

"Am I dying?" I ask.

"You're bleeding out," says a nurse. "We have no blood for you. Do you have any relatives other than your daughter?"

"I'm sure I do," I say and I'm out again.

I wake up in the surgery prep room. I know this room well. People stop and ask what I'm doing back there again. Only one month since I had been in here. I'm afraid. I'm thinking that surgery is a bloody affair and I have no blood to spare. What if I bleed out on the operating table and die. Am assured however that I'm bleeding out more by the minute than I'll ever bleed in surgery. It's emergency surgery or death. Anesthesia guy is nice, they are all nice. He goes through an artery in my wrist to try and find some blood to do a blood count. A blood arc he calls it. It's painful even with the deadening. Someone says that I'm holding at three for now. I'm wheeled into surgery.

I wake up mad...fighting...don't know why, don't know where I am. Trying to get some kind of mask off my face, but hands grab mine and hold them down. I go under again.

Next time I awake, I'm in ICU. Blood techs are working day and night trying to match my blood. They've contacted Dallas and Houston blood banks. Called in extra people to help search. The following day the nurses are more relaxed around me. Two units, possibly three, of blood have been found. They start the transfusion. After my body excepts one of the units I am taken out of ICU and returned to my room on the third floor. Where eventually three more units of blood are found due to the diligence and hard work of the blood technicians.

I tell my doctor..."you people sure do panic easily."

He says, "Yeah, I tend to do that when my patient has no blood and is dying."

"Pfft," I said. "I still had at least 3 in me."

"I've seen people die with more than that in them."

"Ha. I'm not 'people' I've been down to 1.5 before and I walked into the hospital to tell them about it. My body is used to having no blood, it wasn't in shock about it."

Anyway to summon up a long post--after more days and nights of severe nausea, a chest infection, respiratory therapy, much soreness, headaches, IV bloating, blown veins, tapped arteries, bad food, good desserts, watered down sodas, nurses' hugs, and a farewell/get well card from the blood technicians I was released yesterday.

And even though I'll always hate the hospital, I owe my life to the dedication of the blood techs, nurses, surgery and ICU staff, anesthesia guy, blood banks, and to my doctor. And yes, even to the cafeteria crew who kept me alive with their desserts. And a special note of thanks for all of you that donate blood out there, without it many lives would be lost each year including mine. <3

And thanks to my kids for being there for me and for taking care of my kitty cats. My son-in-law even mowed my yard while I was in there. He gets special M-I-L points for that. :D And want to thank all my friends at AW, twitter tweeps, and fb pals for all the hugs, get well wishes, and prayers sent up. <3

An Ironic Twist of Fate

So Close And Yet So Far

As some of you may have already read in my earlier post- God Bless My Surgeon, a wonderful doctor whom I'll call Dr. M. agreed to do surgery on me to stop a bleeding disorder I have. One that I've dealt with for many years, and has resulted in several blood transfusions and near-death experiences.

This surgery is scheduled for May 9th.  Something in which I was very happy and relieved to hear. Finally an end to the monster that is forever stalking me and trying to claim my life!  And then there is this...

Houston we have a problem! A minor complication...I'll be dead before May 9th and as far as I know surgery really doesn't help corpses. My disorder has blown fully out of control as if it knows that this is it's last hoorah and last chance to take me out before the surgery. I have had two shots, the second one weaker than the first due to the time line between them, to control it, but I'm having internal hemorrhaging all the same and I grow weaker by the hour. I suppose that I'll go to the hospital tomorrow, but grudgingly and on the brink of death for I have no desire to be back there again so soon. And my doctor probably won't be around until Monday.

Hospital = more time off work = less pay = facing foreclosure again = bills being shut off = no where to live.

No hospital = death.

I'm balancing my options. Not really sure if one outweighs the other or not at this point. I just know that I'm tired. Like really, really tired. Funny how God sends a great, caring person into my life to save me, just to have me die weeks before the operation. How crazy is that?  lol. That is so like my luck. :D

God Bless My Surgeon

As a general rule, I hate doctors (or at least going to them). After dealing with them for over 14 yrs. and being stabbed, cut up, and experimented on, I'm sick of the hospitals and doctors.

 But gotta say, now I have the sweetest surgeon that has ever lived. After 14 blood transfusions, and no money or insurance to pay for the operations (turned down by every doctor) due to no funds, I met a surgeon at the hospital that did two surgeries on me and willing to do another just so that I'll be cured and never have to return to the hospital again- at least not for that.

Going in for my doctor's appointment today  the receptionist said that it'd be $200 up front when I told her that I didn't have insurance. Looking around the waiting room and feeling rather embarrassed I told her that I had no money. As a-matter-of-fact I don't get paid until tomorrow and I have a total of .50 cents in my pocket. I had to borrow money for gas just to get there. Then I told her how I already told the doctor that I had no money and he said make the appointment anyway. So here I am.

With a confused expression on her face, she said, "Well then, we'll just bill you for the $200 then." I didn't know what to say, I was already turning red as it was, so I just said, "Okay."

And so, I'm called back and I'm waiting for the doc wondering if he'll remember who I am. (the surgery was two wks ago and he has thousands of patients and delivers tons of babies). I'm nervous. Is he going to wonder why the hell I'm here when I can't pay him anything? Is he still going to be willing to do the operation knowing that I have no money?

My fears were put to rest, as soon as he walked in I saw the recognition in his eyes and I knew that he remembered who I was. So after asking how I was doing etc., he asks, "So are you still prepared to go through with the operation?"

I said quietly, "I suppose, but I can't stress it enough that I can't pay for the surgery, I can't even pay for this visit."

With a gentle smile he said, "I believe we went over this at the hospital- I'm not charging you for anything, I just want you to be taken care of . Did they ask you for money when you came in here?"

I looked down at the floor. "$200- they said that they'd bill me. I didn't know what to say. I can't pay it, even on a payment plan."

"Was she rude?" Was the first thing out of his mouth.

I shook my head. "I was just a little embarrassed."

He starts scribbling something on my form and then says, "You give this to them when you leave, they'll never ask for anything from you again. Everything I do will be free of charge and I'll convince the hospital that their end will be free, too, when we do the surgery. Understand?"

"Yes," I said with tears in my eyes. I've dealt with this bleeding disorder for so long, with no funds- no operations to stop it. I've almost died over 5 times and now they are having difficulty matching my blood and each time I go in I get less blood. A normal human has around 12 to 16 units in them, I've been down to 1.5- organ failing, heart attack status. This last time I went in early and was down to 4. They could only round up 3 units. So, I'm still low on blood, but doing okay.

The first surgeon I saw at the hospital said that I needed a regular doctor and the hospital was not the place to have this dealt with. I told him that I couldn't afford a doctor-not the visits, nor the operations.

"So are you just going to keep coming in here? Costing the taxpayers money, getting blood tranfusions until there's no blood for you? Then you'll die. We're not doing these operations, you need to see a doctor first."

"I am a taxpayer," I said, "And I don't know what else I can do. I wouldn't have came here if it wasn't a life or death situation. Believe me!"

He sighed heavily. "Well, I don't know. We'll see if we can figure out what to do."

Same reaction from every surgeon I've seen. He won't do anything, because I have no money. Fine just give me my blood and send me out the door until next time.

The next morning in the hospital the doctor came in, but not the same one. A man with a kindness about him that me and my daughter could see right from the start.

"Listen, you need three operations. First you have something called a lesion, it could be cancerous, so I'm going to take that out and have it checked. Then there's two more that will put an end to this problem. I'm thinking about tomorrow, how does that sound?"

I was stunned, the other surgeon said that the operations weren't going to happen. "Okay," I said hesitantly. " But I don't have insurance or money, I can't pay for this. They'll be sueing me for yrs over this hospital stay and the transfusions."

"I didn't ask for money. I'm worried about your well-being, and in the long run it'll save everyone a whole lot more money if you don't have to come here for blood transfusions anymore. Right? Look, this is going to kill you, maybe not next time or the time after, but sooner or later your organs are going to give out. You can't go on like this."

So, next day I had two of the three operations, tests came back negative on the cancer. :) So, I was good to go for the final operation to cure my disorder. But I was released before I got the third one and I was afraid that it wasn't going to happen. Before I was released the surgeon came back in. "Set up an appointment in 2 wks with me and we'll talk about getting that last operation done, I had to wait for the results of the cancer biopsy and I want you to heal, otherwise I would've just done it when you were in surgery."

Anway, he decided that I'm not healed enough yet, so operation is on hold for now. But he says to call if I have any problems what-so-ever and he'll get me into the hospital. His co-worker, nurse, partner?  Not sure, but she said when I call up here ask straight away for her and avoid talking to the receptionists all together. Very sweet woman she hugged me and told me that I was going to make her cry as my tears flowed with gratitude.

Sadly,  I started bleeding again and if the shot doesn't stop it then I'll have to go back to the ER, but this time with a surgeon by my side. :)

One of the best surgeons here, so I'm told. And the kindest man that I have ever met. God blessed me when he created this soul. Thank you, Doctor M. for saving my life and for caring. :)

Even the Coffee is Nasty...

Ugh! Okay, so I'm in the hospital. And this coffee is just disgusting, wth? As if this place wasn't torture enough. One of the nurses brought me a concoction of prune juice, Dr. Pepper, and milk of magnesia. :O I said, "You've got to be kidding." Hmm...it seems as if they rarely, if ever, kid in here.

The other nurse said, "It's okay, you can wash it down with the coffee."

I took a sip of each with my face equally scrunched up and said, "That's great...um...can you maybe give me a hint on which one's actually the coffee?"

And why does the food  that my daughter gets from the cafeteria look and taste way better than the food they deliver to my room? Where did my food come from, the basement?

Anyway, now they think I have some kind of eating disorder because I never order food. Not sure if I should tell them that I've been having it smuggled in from the outside or not. However if they start pulling out a feeding tube, then I reckon everyone will have to go down for this one.  Even the two yr old that snuck the Hershey's bar in for me. Maybe if they go after her, I can make a great escape and streak across the parking lot in my fine hospital gown that never seems to snap or tie right in the back.

I'll tell you one thing, if you need rest never go to the hospital. I don't know wth these people are thinking, but keeping you awake all night seems to be their main goal, even though they don't want you to know that.

They'll say, "Now, you lay down and get you some rest, you're going to need it for tomorrow."

So, now you're all freaked out about what shit they're going to put you through tomorrow, are they going to make you drink chalk, cut pieces out of you, or maybe stick things where things should not be. Whatever they have planned, it's a quarantee that you'll be hurting a hell of a lot more than when you came in.

And if you can by some miracle drift off to sleep here comes the people with needles. In the middle of the night like vampires. "We want your blood."

When you can get over that rude awakening and start to close your eyes, here comes the nurse to do vitals. Then the bloodtakers and the vitalsigntakers take turns all night waking you up. And when they finally stay away long enough for you to pass out, the doc and spectators come in and stare at your no-make up, hair standing straight up, sleepless self, and say, "Hmm...you don't look well. You're going to have to eat and sleep more or we're going to have to do more tests on you to find out what's wrong with you."

Nooooooooooooo...no more cutting, stabbing, poking, prodding, and slicing. Hm...I don't even remember what the hell I was admitted for, but with all these new injuries I guess it really doesn't matter.

*curls up in corner and rocks back and forth*



p.s. the nurses are the greatest. And the doctor has offered to slice me up for free. So, that's pretty cool.

Been Meaning to Blog More...

Grandtot was ill and was put in the hospital, so the blog has suffered a bit this month. She is now doing much better and will be released soon, however, now I'm rather ill. It just never stops. *sighs*

Anyway, today is the last day for WiH month, however if anyone still wants to participate in a guest blog on it I'm willing to carry it into March. Just let me know. :) I can work on it while getting stabbed and prodded in the hospital if I have to go. (am sooooooo putting off going).

Thank you all for your interest. :) I'm looking forward to hearing from you.

In March, I also plan on getting a story up at Amazon and putting an excerpt of it up in here. I'm so excited. :)

Why I Write Horror

I love writing horror, I suppose it started with my love for reading horror. At eleven I read Salem's Lot by Stephen King and yes, I was up all night staring at the window as a branch scraped against it, the wind making it sway from side to side casting shadows across my bedroom wall. It seems as if I was drawn to the tension and fear. I also watched Amityville Horror and The Exorcist at a very young age. Unfortunately, getting the crap scared out of me at such a young age raised the bar for anything else as I got older and now it's almost impossible to find anything that makes me unnerved like it did back then. Oh, some things come along and I think well that should be scary...but...

So, I guess I write horror in search for something that will actually freak me out and see if I can convey that feeling on paper so that others can feel it, too. The build-up, suspense, and the underlying feeling of dread is what I strive for in writing. And then, of course, not to let any of my readers down in the end, but I guarantee that if I'm creating the tension of what's to come, then something evil and twisted will be right around the corner waiting...for you.

Celebrating the Third Year of Women in Horror

For those who didn't know, February is the time to celebrate Women in Horror http://www.womeninhorrormonth.com/ . So, every week I'll be posting a book or author pic. of  some of our well known women horror writers. My third post for WiH is on Gemma Files, and here's an article for you to learn a little more about the author via wiki.

Gemma Files is a Canadian horror writer, journalist, and film critic. Her short story, "The Emperor's Old Bones", won the International Horror Guild Award for Best Short Story of 1999. Five of her short stories were adapted for the television series The Hunger.
Gemma Files graduated Ryerson Polytechnic University in 1991 with a degree in journalism; various freelance assignments eventually led to a continuing position with entertainment periodical eye Weekly (www.eye.net), where she gained local repute as an insightful commentator on the horror genre, independent films and Canadian cinema. She was listed by Cameron Bailey of NOW Magazine as one of the Top 10 Coolest People In Canadian Cinema for 1996. She has also written reviews for www.film.com and for the Canadian horror magazine Rue Morgue.



*note that previous posts moved here- http://night7flyer.blogspot.com/p/women-in-horror.html *sorry, couldn't move the comments*

Me And Writing...

Okay, so I'm not exactly soaring my way to the top. It's more like I'm crawling, clawing at the dirt going uphill in a blizzard during a tornado with 100 mph winds shoving me backwards. But hey, I'm trying.

Being a well-known (or even heard of by one person) author or artist is all I've ever dreamed of. I've been writing/drawing/reading since I could pick up a crayon and put words together. And while many dreams have died and been buried along the side of the road of life, this dream has somehow managed to stow away in my heart, stubbornly clinging on to life and hope.

And though my hope in dreams has long ago run dry, this dream still believes in me. Persistent in its will to survive and waiting for me to make it flourish. So I'm giving it my best shot against all odds and trying my damnedest to make it happen.

I am currently working on a novel, an apocalyptic tale of a teenager seeking his younger brother in a chaotic world of death and madness. A world filled with cannibals, Dements, scavengers, insanity, and... the 'normal' or so Jacob and his friends call themselves, but are they really the normal ones? A sf/horror, "One of Us".

I've also done some short stories mostly horror, and though I've gotten the big 'R's I still have hope that they might be published one day.

It's been a long, hard road, but the dream lives on. And dammit, I don't care if I reach ninety and am on my deathbed, I'll still be subbing until someone sees something in my writing. For what good is it if no one ever gets to read it? I shall try until I'm dead to get my stories out there or die trying.

Will blog soon...for now: some of my artwork. :)




Forest Floor (oil paint)                                          

                  

*note- Copying or taking these without my permission for your own use is illegal.