Okay - first the good stuff . . . my next cover:

I’m really proud of myself.  My faux umbilical cord (my kid is adopted and almost 11) stretched all the way from Hobe Sound to Tallahassee.  I made it through my daughter’s first 3-day school trip with lots of Xanax but only a few tears.  Actually those tears were mostly the result of the medical procedure I had on Monday, but we can discuss (or not) that little Medieval treatment later.  The Xanax was great but I actually have a writing/reading related purpose for coming out of bloglessness . . . the only time she called was to have my husband read to her at bedtime. 

 

As a working writer, I do get concerned by the lack of interest young people seem to have in reading.  Selfishly, I want them to grow up and be consumers.  I want to be employed ten, fifteen, twenty years from now.  Okay, so maybe twenty is pushing it, I don’t want to die at my desk.

 

Enough about her being back, now I’ll rant about my own back.  After doing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary – I twisted t get out of my car and lifted some luggage – stuff I do quite often.  Then I folded like a cheap suit, barely able to stand erect.  That was March 9^th.  Me being me, I waited about a week, and then went to the doctor.  Got what I expected – probably pulled something.  No biggie.  Only it didn’t get better, it got worse.  Had this sharp pain running down my leg.  It got so bad that I – a person loathe to seeking medical attention – went to the ER.  Got a nifty shot of Demerol and a referral to a back specialist.  Go see the back specialist and he sends me for MRIs and CT scans and PT.  (In my world PT does not stand for physical therapy, it stands for Pissing away time).  My take on PT was confirmed when the first (and only as far as I’m concerned) session consisted of me lying on an ice pack for 20 minutes, then lying on a heating pad for twenty minutes.  I’m sure Blue Cross/Blue Shield will be billed hundreds for that not-even-an-hour.  And the chitchat from the therapist . . . he knows a healer in Alabama who can lay hands on and has had some success with back patients.  Um, huh????  Check please!

 

So I go back to specialist who gives me the results of all the tests – seems my sciatic nerve is pinched under a staple that was left (intentionally) in my spine in the mid 1990s.  Oh, and I have some minor arthritis in my spine and a disintegrating disc and another disc that’s bulging.  So he uses the S word.   I’ve already had surgery on my foot and on my leg and it’s only April, so I immediately nix the whole surgical approach.  So then, he tells me the next option is a lumbar injection to numb the nerve.  Says it isn’t a big deal.  Only takes a few minutes.  Pain relief can last from days to months.  Great – I’m good to go.  So my hubby and I arrive at this surgical center and low and behold, we run into friends.  Seems she’s having the same thing I’m having.  She goes in first.  She comes out crying and says it was the worst pain she’s ever endured.

 

Me?  I have a seriously high threshold for pain, so I’m thinking this woman just wimped out.  So I’m optimistic as I crawl up on to the gurney and they do all the prep stuff.  Pet Peeve – doctor comes in after I’m strapped down, face down on the table.  If you’re going to jab something into my body, I really prefer a face-to-face hello first.

 

Needle one – this will numb the area around your spine.  Needle two – apparently needle one didn’t do its job.  Not only do I feel this thing poking between my vertebrae, I can see it on the screens set up around the room.  I curse.  Loudly.  Needle number three – I instantly learned - was the reason for the restraints.  Worse than kidney stones, worse than childbirth.  Felt like he was shoving a hot poker straight through me.

 

“All done,” he says in a cherry voice.

 

“Me too,” I say through my tears.

 

Then he tells me it will take a series of three of these.  Um, not just no but HELL NO! 

 

My back is now worse than when I started and I’ve decided to change doctors.

 

So, my kid is home safe and sound but I still walk like Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein.

 

So, how’ve you been?

Oh, sweetie. My heart goes out to you. :-(

Owie! And I thought having to get an injection into the trigeminal nerve (via the nasal passage) was bad. The numbing stuff worked fairly well, and it was over relatively quickly. The 'it'll take 3 sessions' wasn't too cool, but I can get through it.

Love your cover, btw. I've got the one for Hidden Fire, my Cerridwen book on my site, but haven't heard from Five Star about my December release. I think seeing the cover is when the book becomes real.