Back in March, I was happily munching a salad when something didn't feel right. The hard piece of something that I spit out was one of my crowns. No big deal, I thought. Call the dentist, go in, and get it glued back in place. Then I looked closer and realized the crown had taken a large portion of what was left of the tooth with it. Okay, so it WAS a big deal. There wasn't enough of the tooth left to repair, so I had to see an oral surgeon to have the root extracted. (Don't cringe. I'm not going into great deal.) Unfortunately, while I got in right away for the assessment, I couldn't have the procedure done until this past Monday. Yes, that's a long time. It wasn't that bad. The doctor was FAST. I was in and out in no time. I refused the narcotic pain meds, opting to use over-the-counter products instead. Note: I highly recommend the Tylenol/Advil combo I've been told to use on several occasions. However... While I wasn't in any real pain, I was a t...

I got nothin’. If you checked out Working Stiffs on Wednesday, you’ve seen all my photography for the week. All that was worth posting, at least. So instead of Photo Friday, I’m beginning the countdown to the conference. The Pennwriters Conference is next week. Technically, it’s Friday through Sunday, but I’m leaving Wednesday so I can attend Tim Esaias’ daylong intensive fiction workshop on Thursday. And I’m not at all sucking up to the teacher by offering him a ride to Lancaster. Last year, as you may (or may not) recall, I was conference coordinator. This year, my sole duty, beyond that of conference Yoda (I sit in my cave in my swamp and offer guidance), is that of photographer. But I think I’m almost as stressed as I was a year ago. This year, I am pitching. The last time I pitched was in 2006. I signed with my agent back then. I un-signed with her this January. So I’m back in pitching practice. No, I’m not ready. Not even close. I have to confess…there was a moment or two yester...

As I write this, I'm sitting in the lobby at our local hospital waiting for my hubby who is having a test for no other reason than he's reached "a certain age." Meanwhile, having watched him go through the preparation for it, I've decided to put a freeze on my aging. Click on over to Working Stiffs for a discussion on The Joys of Aging.

Can someone tell me how it got to be the end of October already? Halloween has snuck up on me like one of its goblins in the night. I still have my summer bird houses sitting on the front porch. October is always a hectic month. It’s the month to get everything done before snow flies. I remember building our barn in October many years ago. We had all summer, but being procrastinators, it didn’t get done until the leaves had fallen and winter threatened to freeze the ground solid. No barns this year. Just dentist appointments, eye doctor appointments, skin doctor appointments (my freckles are all just freckles this year…YAY). Make sure the body is functioning sufficiently well to make it through another winter. A few appointments didn’t fit in October, so early November has turned into an overflow. But I hope to have a fairly clear appointment book for the bulk of next month. I don’t much like cold weather. I shall miss my outdoor walks. I’m saving my pennies to buy a treadmill so I don...

We received a good report at Mom’s doctor’s visit yesterday. For a while there, I was concerned that we’d even GET to the appointment when there was a mix-up in transportation. Better late than never, as they say. This was the first time I’d seen the new hip on x-ray and my comment was “That is quite a hunk of hardware” to which Dr. Ray replied, “That is quite a hunk of hardware.” He also said it looked exactly the way it was supposed to look. He upped Mom’s weight bearing status to “as tolerated” and gave the thumbs-up to her coming home by the end of the week. Mom and I were doing a cautious version of the Happy Dance. So now I have to busy myself with getting her house (and the back seat of my car) cleaned up and ready for her homecoming. If you’re looking for my weekly report from Citizens’ Police Academy, it’s posted over at Working Stiffs . With any luck, I’ll be able to get back to writing full time next week and put some of my new-found knowledge to work.

I’ve been sitting here pondering what to blog about and it occurred to me that I’m a bit in limbo. Today, is one of those days when nothing much is going on. Stuff has either already taken place or hasn’t happened yet. Weatherwise, it’s not quite spring, but finally winter appears to be cutting us some slack. Yesterday was mild, but windy (March weather). Today calls for rain, which is much better than snow and ice. I survived my meeting last week with my new accountant. Tax time always scares me. But this guy tells me I’m as anal as an engineer when it comes to my recording keeping. Anal. Ordinarily, I might take offense, but in this case, I’ll take it as a compliment. Numbers are not my strong suit. Letters, words, yes. Numbers, no. So if my books are complete enough to be termed “anal,” GOOD. Makes up for that “D” I got in high school bookkeeping. Now, I just sit and wait for the paperwork to be completed so we can sign our tax returns and zip them off to the powers that be. I’m sit...

I’ve calmed down a bit from my frazzled state of mind on Monday. I used the quiet time on my chiropractor’s spinalator to get a grip. Marvelous invention. They need to come up with a home version of it. With my mind relaxed and my bones back where they belong, I headed to Hazelwood, a neighborhood in Pittsburgh where I had never been before, for class one of the Citizen’s Police Academy. I love my GPS. Without it, I’d STILL be wandering the streets of Pittsburgh trying to find my way there (or home). Thanks to rush hour traffic, I came very close to being late. As it was, I slipped in right on time. My fellow Sister in Crime and Working Stiff, Gina, was already there, saving me a seat. Class one consisted of lots of talk. The Chief of Police, Nathan Harper, was there. So was the Chief of Detectives and a variety of public officials and politicians. Everyone welcomed us and promised us a fun experience. Then we had a lecture regarding the history of the police, going back to somewhere a...

If I were a man, I’d be bald. And the fact that Male Pattern Baldness runs in my family has nothing to do with it. As it is, I’m simply sprouting a new crop of gray hairs. How is it that I always tend to say yes to projects in the future, assuming that I won’t be as busy by then? Duh. Mental note to self: STOP THAT. The Restorative Yoga program that I taught yesterday appears to have been a success. Everyone left looking relaxed and mellow. We’re going to do it again the end of next month. No problem there. I enjoy planning these workshops, if you can actually justify calling it a WORKshop. No, my current source of stress is the decision I made almost a year ago to take on the role of 2009 Conference Coordinator. Suddenly, I’m faced with demands to have the thing all planned out when it’s still over a year away. It didn’t take me that long to plan my wedding! Meanwhile, the Firearms 101 for Writers Workshop I’m helping plan for April is coming together. That sounds so nice and tidy. Th...

Mom came through yesterday’s five hour long surgery like a trooper. She’s getting all too used to these things. Dr. Ray replaced the entire hip socket again. The plastic liner he placed in it last time pulled out, causing the dislocation. So he’s trying something new. While he isn’t guaranteeing anything, he seems more confident that this might give Mom a viable hip…for more than three months. We’re back to square one in the recovery process. Or maybe square two. The part of the prosthesis that goes into the thigh bone didn’t have to be altered. But the new socket means she’s back to keeping all of her weight off that leg. Looks like she’ll be headed to the Health Center again for a few weeks once she’s discharged from the hospital, too. What she does NOT have to go through again is physical therapy. Dr. Ray says no more PT. Just walking.

I was merrily going along, enjoying my life, juggling a number of writing projects, when WHAM! Okay, it wasn’t a “wham.” It was the ringing of my phone. And my mom on the other end announcing that she thought she’d dislocated her hip. Mom was right. She didn’t fall, wasn’t doing anything she shouldn’t have. She was doing her exercises. Dr. Ray said he could try to get it back in and see what happens. But we all agreed. We’ve SEEN what happens. So, tomorrow, Mom goes back under the knife for her third hip revision surgery in six months. We’re hoping that third time’s a charm. Of course, we were hoping the first and second times were the charm, too. Apparently the powers that be did not share my plan of staying out of hospitals in 2008. On a lighter note, today is my day to blog over at Working Stiffs and we’re looking for signs of spring.

Happy Groundhogs Day. The stupid rodent saw his shadow. Six more weeks of winter. Of course, last year he DIDN’T see it and we had one of the nastiest early springs on record. Basically, if he sees his shadow, we get six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t, about a month and a half. I’ve completed four weeks of the Buzz Your Book workshop . Two to go. I would highly recommend this course to anyone with a book coming out, but be prepared to spend the time to do the assignments and to WORK. Otherwise, you’re wasting your money. I’m getting my money’s worth, but I’ve sacrificed my writing in order to do the assignments. You’ve been warned. On Tuesday, I took my mom to see her surgeon for another post-op and he graduated her from her walker to a cane. It was an exciting day. The even bigger occasion for her was Thursday when she ran the vacuum for the first time since before her surgery. I’ve never seen anyone so giddy over cleaning house. But that’s my mom. The tidy gene skipped my genera...

One of my favorite TV shows is House . This week, I felt like I’d stepped into my own personal episode of the medical mystery series. My knee has been bothering me on and off for quite some time now. Lately, it’s been more on than off. So I decided to make an appointment for myself at the same time as Mom’s appointment Tuesday. I don’t know what I expected. I wasn’t in enough pain enough of the time to warrant surgery. I hate needles. I guess I just wanted to find out what was happening in there. So off I went to x-ray. When the pictures came up on the computer screen (all digital now, you know) even I could see something weird, not in the joint, but in the bone below the knee, the tibia. Ah, I thought. That’s my lumpy shin. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had a lump on my right shin bone. I contributed it to being gang-tackled during a game of dodge ball back in bible school. One doctor told me it was a greenstick fracture. Another called it an extended tibia. No one ever x-rayed it. I...

After five long days in the hospital, my mom is back at the Health Center. There’s nothing like a few days in Allegheny General to make us appreciate the wonderful care she gets at the Washington County Health Center. According to plan (and we all know how well our plans work out) she’ll be there for another week and then HOME. I sure hope it’s just one more week. I’m beginning to literally break out in hives from the stress. Or maybe it’s the Retin-A that my dermatologist started me on to combat the sun damage my face suffered in my youth, before we knew about skin cancer. I’ve had two pre-cancerous sunspots frozen off already and this treatment is supposed to keep more of those things from marring my face further. But the treatment is playing its own particular havoc in the form of red splotches and peeling skin. What joy. So my face is sore and itchy. But that’s not what’s causing me the most grief at the moment. It’s the pounding in my head. No, I’m not becoming a hypochondriac. A...

Mom made it through yesterday’s surgery. My brother and I set up camp in the tenth floor waiting room of Allegheny General…a room I’ve become much too familiar with. He read a David Baldacci novel ( Last Man Standing ) between naps. I read Laura Lippman’s The Last Place . When we noticed the common theme of our reading choices, we agreed that we hoped this was also the LAST hip surgery Mom would need. The prognosis is good. Dr. Ray doesn’t think she will dislocate again, though being a smart man, he admits to making no promises. She shouldn’t need the brace anymore, but will be on a walker for another six weeks. We can live with that. She will be in the hospital until the end of the week. After that it’s anybody’s guess. I had an interesting drive home. I don’t know that I’ve ever been in the city on a night when the Steelers were playing Monday Night Football before or not. I rather think not. Perhaps last night’s festivities were kicked up because of the presence of the Steelers’ A...

Last Friday, I wrote about the light at the end of the tunnel and how I feared it might turn out to be a train. Well, it was. Mom was supposed to come home today. I had her to the doctor on Tuesday and he took her out of her brace, pleased with the healing shown on the x-rays. All was good. And then yesterday, while sitting in her chair reading the newspaper, the hip dislocated again. I followed the ambulance into Allegheny General Hospital as it transported her to the emergency room. After more x-rays and a thorough exam, they asked me where the brace was. It was at home. I had to drive home, get the brace, and drive back to the city, a two-hour round trip, while they put Mom under and put the hip back in joint. Thank goodness for Starbucks. I was cruising on the strength of a venti white chocolate mocha. Once it was all done, I was able to drive Mom back to the Health Center, arriving there around 10:30 last night. What a day. So she’s scheduled for more surgery next week. Obviously,...

Have I mentioned lately that I am ready for life to slow down? What I wouldn’t give to know what “boredom” means. Monday, I had my regular appointment with my dermatologist. Being fair skinned and of the generation before all the hype about sunblocks, I have had my share of sunburns. Now I’ve reached an age where they are coming back to haunt me. My freckles have turned to age spots (I hate that term). It seems every time I show the doctor a freckle or mole that I think might be something , it’s actually nothing and those that I expect to be nothing turn out to be something . That was the case Monday when I had to have pre-cancerous sun spot frozen. On my nose. Dead center on my face. In case you don’t know, when they freeze one of these things, you’re left with a nasty red welt for a couple weeks. Dead center on my face. I’m thinking of getting a black pointy hat and just pretending to be in a Halloween witch’s costume for a while. I’ve got the wart on the nose thing taken care of. ...

My mom has always told me not to wish my life away. Nonetheless, I’m counting off days right now: Four more days until I’m done giving Skye her Zithromax. Eight more days until I finally get my hair cut. I’ve had to cancel twice and I feel like a ragamuffin. Thirteen more days until Mom’s next appointment with Dr. Ray. If all looks good (and we feel that it will) he’ll free her from her brace and up her weight-bearing to “as tolerated.” And then, hopefully, she’ll be able to come home. But coming back to the present, come on over to Working Stiffs today, as it’s my day to post there.

After a rough couple of weeks, the results are all in. My biopsy came back negative…NO CANCER. Skye, while negative for cancer, is a very strong positive for Bartonella . I’m still learning about this nasty little infection, but I’ll take it over oral cancer again in a heartbeat. Mom had a check-up this morning with the surgeon. Her hip is healing well, but slowly. She’s stuck in that dreaded brace of hers for another four weeks. If she can go that long without dislocating, we’ll be in good shape and we can beef up the rehab. For now, it’s more of the same: hanging out in the Health Center with light physical therapy. I’m thrilled that the x-rays look so promising. Of course, he didn’t tell her she could lose the brace and go dancing tonight, so Mom is less than happy. Enough of this medical and veterinary stuff. Now I need to free up some time on my calendar and get back to writing!

I’ve always said don’t ever ask what else could go wrong? Or say that things can’t get any worse. The universe has a way of laughing in your face. And, honest, I didn’t say either of those things. The cliché I mistakenly toyed with was that which does not kill us serves to make us stronger. Why the hell do I need to be that strong? I cried out to the heavens. Okay, add that one to my list of things one should never ask. During my annual mammogram yesterday, they found “something.” When I went back this morning for a biopsy, they gave that “something” a name. They called it a nodule. The last nodule I had grew into a monster uterine fibroid that had to be surgically removed six years ago. But I’m not getting into that. I saw two different doctors and both agree that most likely this nodule thing is nothing. One went so far as to say she was 100 percent certain. She must have seen the look on my face as I prepared to ask: What the hell am I doing here, then? Because she back-peddled ...

As a writer, research is a big part of my life. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. Very often, life experience brings me a certain level of expertise that I’d rather not have. Because of my dad, I learned more than I ever wanted to know about cardiovascular disease, dementia, and the extreme amounts of paperwork involved in the medical assistance process. My cousin has given me a look at brain injury and its after-effects. I am now an expert on squamous cell carcinoma and administering medications to cats courtesy of my dear, sweet Sammie. Now, I know a lot more terminology about hip surgery than I ever cared to learn. For instance, we all know about hip replacement surgery. But did you know that when a hip replacement is replaced, it’s called a hip revision? I learned that a few weeks ago when my mom had one. Now I also know that the procedure to put a dislocated hip back in is called a reduction. When done without cutting, it’s a closed reduction. If surgery is required, it’s an...