Hostile Take Over

I made all these lovely plans this week. Exercise. Play dates. Putt-putt. A business meeting with my admin with a side of splash pad for the kids and then...I got a cold.

Not just any cold.

This thing has aspirations.

It's hegemonic.

I forgot my place.

I don't get to make plans.

I don't get to be healthy on any kind of regular basis.

What kind of dumb bitch am I to think I can do anything? To think I can count on being able to show up and follow through?

Sigh.

Yeah, it's *just* a cold, but I also *just* finished up the diverticulitis. It's not like I'm coming into this with all this amazing health behind me.

I haven't had a bad cold like this in a while, which makes me wonder if I'm going to go back to catching every little bug around me. This happens every few years or so. I don't know if the bugs mutate and outpace my immune system or if it's some other causative factor but man does it suck.

And now I have to go make sure I have prednisone because this cold might come to that.

PS: Some more on A mazon. I found out half the authors never received the contracts that were promised to them by A mazon's management. They published their stories anyway (whereas I would have walked).

We all spent days wrestling with their upload interface (which is an internal system they use for their imprints, it's not what indies use.). The upload process was so bad, we actually developed a drinking game based on all the glitches!

THEN as if to punish us for our cooperation in the face of their incompetence, they promptly shoved all of our books into the wrong category.

So picture fiction shelved in cookbooks. We weren't coming up properly in their search engine results AND our sales were displacing books that should have been ranking in their category (so they were screwing more authors than just us!). Imagine Nora Roberts' books taking over the entire cookbook category and its bestseller list. That's what A mazon did. Good luck selling any books beyond your fan base! Sheesh!

What a travesty of a project. I will never work with them again. I can't picture a scenario where there's enough money in it for me to subject myself to these people again.

About Celiac's and A mazon

1. Celiac's.

It did cross my mind before. However, the way this all started was with a rash, asthma and flu-like symptoms. I didn't have digestive issues. Every time I ran across someone who had Celiac's they were often ranting about how being 'glutened' had caused them to have to wrap themselves around a toilet for three days. Since that wasn't me, I thought I just had an allergy or a weird food intolerance/inflammation thing.

Now I do sometimes have digestive issues after eating wheat. And the rash. And asthma. And sneezing. And joint pain. And brain fog. And a bulging stomach that everyone thinks is a hernia but it's not. And chronic low iron with occasional bouts of anemia.

The one good thing about the fancy pants specialist is I took a deeper look at Celiac's. I have no way to know for sure, but while I don't have much in common with IBS patients, I do mirror a lot of what Celiac patients say. Not everyone With Celiac's has digestive issues and some have only mild digestive issues.

That's me!

I might just be that weird.  Who knew?

2. Regarding my A mazon project. OMG. I killed myself finishing the damn story they wanted, working through feeling like crap thanks to the diverticulitis and part of my vacation, and they left me hanging. They managed to get everyone else the contract but me. So I couldn't do anything. Couldn't plan marketing. Couldn't coordinate with the other authors. Nothing. I was in limbo.

A mad limbo that fueled some furious bike rides where I swore under my breath for the entire five miles. I was SO. MAD.

I'm still pissed. You have no idea. I showed up. I did my job. They wanted XYZ, I gave them XYZ and ABC and 123. Where was A mazon?

I watched everyone else get their contracts and start organizing their marketing campaign week after week while I got bupkis.

Then I started getting 'the contract is coming' emails. A whole string of them. And still no fucking contract.

Three weeks later...I finally get the contract. AFTER I'd already gone through the mental gymnastics to make lemonade out of my lemons. I'd made my peace with it, was prepared to move forward and had figured out a way to make good money. I'd even stopped following up, but they sent me the contract anyway!

Damn it!

I had to reverse my entire mental game and opt back in because I decided I wouldn't back out of my initial commitment.

So, seething with resentment, I made like a team player and signed the contract. There were other authors involved and this bullshit hurt them, too. Not that A mazon cared.

I'm waiting to see how much money I'm going to lose on this. It was always the case that I could make more on my own. This was not a money move, it was a PR and networking-with-A mazon-management move...which has failed spectacularly as I'm now that author, the one who kept emailing and emailing and emailing about the fucking contract.

Which, in the end, I didn't even want anymore, but felt honor bound to accept.

So I made no friends at A mazon*, things got weird with the authors because no one wanted to speak ill of the Master**, and I'll make pretty much no money.

Go me.

I am going to have to do a lot of deep breathing exercises to find my Zen on this one.

Sometimes I wonder if the person at A mazon was the GI specialist's twin or something. They were both SUCH special treats. How did I get so lucky?

*Not much of a loss. Sheesh. Corporate paychecks sure do make people complacent. Wish I had the luxury of that kind of laziness! Rep me, don't rep me. Merch my books, don't merch my books. Whatever. I've got work to do. Call me when you're back from your three hour lunch.

**Everyone was hoping to impress A mazon, so no one dared acknowledge what was happening to me lest the mighty Z on have NSA level access to our email accounts. (Given that some authors were sending Z on screen caps of confidential conversations last month, attempting to curry favor via tattling, this is not an unjustified level of paranoia.) (Yes, authors are crazy. So are readers.) This whole thing was a fucking author pageant. I thought I could be a contender, but I have zero patience with people who can't do their jobs. Do your job or leave me the hell alone because I will not smile and nod when you've proven to be incompetent< -- pageant fail.

More Fancy Pants Updates

So the first order of business with the fancy pants GI doc (beyond not listening to me at all) was to test me for SOD.

Naturally, all the spasming stopped right before the nuclear imaging of my biliary ducts. Save for a week this past May, the damn ducts haven't stopped twanging like a banjo for over a year.

The imaging showed no issue.

Which was no surprise given how normal my gut is at the moment. (I cut out some foods while on vacation, just naturally, and seem to be uncovering some additional sensitivities that might be a trigger. Right now, it twinges after I eat and occasionally spasms, but is remarkably well-behaved.)

So I cancelled the upper GI scope. There didn't seem to be much point in continuing with this specialist. If the imaging had shown SOD, I might've stuck around, but, you know, there's nothing wrong with me according to them (except IBS, so they say, and there's nothing they can do for that, apparently).

Plus...I tried to go up after my nuclear imaging thing and ask them about updating my medical record and no one cared.

I asked for a nurse's appointment so I could update their records, but nope, no go.

Call me a wimp, but I'm just not willing to undergo anesthesia when their attitude is so cavalier. I've done procedures in this medical system and I've seen their pre-anesthesia s.o.p. and this bullshit ain't it.

Also, I don't know why I need a scope. That was not explained to me. The primary impetus seemed to be the fact that I hadn't had one in two years, not any actual medical issue. (God, that appointment was really horrible.)

My thought at the moment is to go back to my regular GI and ask about testing for Celiac's. And keep an eye on my TSH and pray my ferritin/iron goes up.

I did find a multi-vitamin I can tolerate (sort of) but there's not much iron so I'm not sure how much help it is.

Oh and I received a survey on the fancy pants GI doctor, which I thought was unusual. Either they're new or they're bad or both. Anyway, I politely explained my issues and I hope someone somewhere gives a shit.

I Wish I Was Making This Up

Lots going on here. I hope I can frame it all coherently. We just returned from a lovely vacation full of seafoam green water and lazy mornings. It was a fantastic break and I'm thankful it coincided with finally feeling like I was over the diverticulitis. 

The big news on the health front is I finally got into the fancy pants hospital system, and so far, it is a disaster. No one wants to listen or properly review my case.

The appointment veered in strange and wild directions, from revoking various diagnoses to invoking other diagnoses and back again as the specialist played catch-up with the medical records. It went a little like this:

"You did not have pancreatitis.

Why did they take your gallbladder? It was fine.

You don't have Sphincter of Oddi Dysfunction. If you did, the ERCP would have worked.

You probably have IBS. Yes that can be point specific and high up under your rib cage.

Oh, I see. Huh. There were stones*.

You probably did have pancreatitis.

They did need to take out the gallbladder.

Still not sold on the SoD and still thinking you have IBS.

But I'd like to test for Celiac's and do some imaging on the SoD."

All of this was addressed to my husband, by the way. Which is why I bring him on some of the more critical appointments. He is allowed to exist**. I am not even allowed to speak. To wit, I was never permitted to explain I have been gluten free for a while now in response to the idea that I might have Celiac's Disease***.

So I had to pay for useless blood work because I wasn't able to get a word in edgewise and there was zero interest in anything I had to say. Everything I said was immediately shot down and negated. This is "care that cares****" folks. Lucky me!

If I had realized the blood work required me to be eating gluten, I would have attempted to be more vocal about it. Stupid me. I thought the specialist knew what they were doing. Gah. At least I was able to send a follow-up email later on explaining I no longer eat wheat.  

I have no idea what's going to happen from here. Do I do a gluten challenge? How do I mitigate the asthma and manage the risk of wheat + flu?

And I guess we'll be finding out if I'm somehow the only person on the planet with IBS so high up in the rib cage that it feels/acts like pancreatitis. Out of curiosity,  I read hundreds of patient accounts about their experiences with IBS and I don't match any of them.

I don't care about the diagnosis at this point. Call my GI stuff whatever the hell you want, just optimize my system so I can function. I get the feeling the gastro thought I was arguing against IBS when what I really wanted was for them to LISTEN to me already. 

My 'questioning' of the IBS diagnosis was focused on the lack of attention to details and the forcefulness with which I'd been put on mute as a patient. I mean, hell, just slap a ball gag on me when I walk into the exam room why don't ya? Or I could just not come to the appointment at all since my presence, apparently, isn't all that important.

As for the specialist...if they keep this up, I don't know what I'll do. Maybe they'll chill out. Maybe the various tests will offer some clarity and give me enough credibility that I'll be allowed to have a voice. It's really disheartening to have finally broken through the administrative dysfunction at this place and get an appointment only to find out this is the kind of doctor I'm stuck dealing with.

AND on top of all the BS above...My medications weren't even updated and I haven't been in this medical system for a decade. So they're planning to do general anesthesia for a scope, but have no idea what meds I'm on, what I weigh or what has changed in my health history. I'm going to go have to hunt someone down and bug them about updating their system. 

Or is it not important to know these things before you take someone's life in your hands? 

*Stones were news to me! No one ever told me!

**The problem is the hubby isn't so hot at medical stuff. He could tell the appointment was bad, but didn't have any idea of what to say--since he was the one with all the respect--to get it back on track.

***You know, Celiac's is a real possibility. 

****I made that slogan up.

Since You Asked

This is how my writing is going...

The same day my stomach blew up...

I had a call with Ama zon's HQ, which was/is kind of a big deal. 

It was for a special project I'd been invited to participate in.

I white knuckled my way through the call, because you can't not take a call from Ama zon when you're an indie. These calls can make you.

But I don't know if I'll be able to make their deadline now.

To avail myself of the opportunity with Ama zon, it was essential to have a very productive week the week I got sick. I needed to make word count, not be stuck in the ER and down for the count with pain.

I'm very behind now. I was distracted by the diverticulitis. The pain was so bad, I tried to just sleep through it as much as I could. Focusing on anything else seemed impossible.

Other than my body fucking up my writing career, everything is going okay. I have a fan base and avoided Kindle Unlimited, which has insulated me somewhat from the worst of the latest changes in the industry. (A lot of folks just saw their income evaporate overnight because the put all their eggs in KU.) My last book performed well--not a break out hit but a solid seller with good conversion to my backlist (i.e. they bought the other books in the series). This year won't be as rich as last year, but I'm still a profitable writer.

I'm surviving.

And I think I'm done posting for a while...unless something else happens that I feel the need to write about.
 . 

This Much Fun Is Illegal

1. I ate plain scrambled eggs today! That has been the highlight of my week so far. So it goes first.

2. I wonder if I subconsciously knew something was up when I wrote that Update post. I could have posted any time...why right before I get sick? Interesting. I did have some weird stuff going on, but I thought it had resolved and I couldn't tell ya if it was related to what happened later or not. No clue.

3. The antibiotics are kicking in so the pain is not as bad. I might be pain free by tomorrow. Just in time to go out of town and squeeze my bloated belly into a formal evening gown while making nice with relatives I can't stand. That should be interesting. 

4. I seem to have a cold now. And a canker sore. I would say it's stress BUT the ER was filthy. I mean, truly filthy. Everyone was professional, but I kind of don't want to ever go back due to the filth. 

 

I've never seen anything like it.

There were used gloves on the floor in my room and in one of the bathrooms. The toilets had old smears of urine/fecal matter/blood all over them. I actually had to clean a toilet before I could use it. 

When I was in the waiting room, even with as much as my stomach/groin/legs hurt, I had strong urges to clean things up. There was litter everywhere. Empty bags of chips (yes, plural) all over the place. As I waited, someone dumped a whole bottle of formula on the floor and left it there (perhaps, like me, they knew there were no towels in the restroom).

So I imagine I've picked up something from that environment. It seemed like a place where a cold or flu (or ebola!) could fester. And I can believe the toilet seats could give someone herpes...or chlamydia or gonorrhea. Ha. Maybe that's where all the STDs are coming from.

My New Weight Loss Diet

It's not a good one.

Spent all day in the ER.

I was thinking possible appendicitis.

Fever + 48 hours of non stomach flu abdominal pain + elevated white blood cells.

They were thinking chlamydia or gonorrehea.

I told them, "I'm fat, forty-two and too tired for that much excitement."

They remained skeptical.

And since I have a vagina and abdominal pain, they had to be sure I wasn't secretly a whore.

I'm not.

I think they were surprised.

Anyway, the CT scan came back with diverticulitis.

The pain is excruciating.

(This is how I know my pancreatitis was/is mild.)

I regret turning down the pain meds.  Advil doesn't touch this. Not even close.

I have to keep reminding myself, I don't do well on narcotics and they don't really help either.

But I am still wistful.

And not eating.

All this GI stuff runs in one side of my family. I used to have great digestion but it looks like the DNA is catching up to me.

PS: Everyone was kind and compassionate while also asking me over and over about STDs (as if I would know that without a test anyways). This was the only question that was repeated. They (seriously, more than one) had this look in their eyes like 'oh yeah, you're gonna have it' which got to be kind of weird. WTH?

PPS: Hemoglobin is going down based on the ER bloodwork. I'll likely be anemic with the next menstrual cycle.  Damn it.