What is your favorite Spyder reading while eagerly awaiting the release of PRIDE by Rachel Vincent?
A WHOLE BUNCH OF BOOKS ON CELL CHURCH STRUCTURE
Which is a whole different topic that deserves its own post. I've buried myself neck deep in facilitating the renewal of the little United Methodist congregation to which I belong. Progress has slowed considerably considering the *other* less pleasant thing I've been doing since my last post. I've spent over five weeks accomplishing nothing more than trying to recover from - not the worst GI problem a fella can have - but close.
I did get my proposal resent to Anne Leslie Tuttle at Silhouette Nocturne, so that's a big yay! I'm also writing about five days a week consistently. I suppose I have the illness to thank for that. Writing is one of the few things I can do flat on my back.
The technical term is ulcerative colitis. It works like a autoimmune disease in which the body attacks itself. In this case, my immune system decided my lower colon is the devil.
I left on vacation with GI symptoms I thought were simple IBS. You watch what you eat and wait for it to go away. Not only did it *not* go away, the day we left for our long trek home, it got incredibly worse. Worst 4 days of my life - bar none, and that's saying something.
We got home on a Wednesday afternoon. I thought that, without the cataclysmic bump, bump, bump of the RV, I'd get much better. Thursday morning, the dh and I awoke with the same thought written in neon in our brains. I needed to be in the hospital.
I got up and pulled a pair of pajama pants on under my gown while Lane brought the car around to the front door. I made it as far as the entryway before I cramped up so badly that I couldn't walk. Lane walked in to find me sitting on the floor and crying. Scared him to death. We opted to call an ambulance.
Lane carries me back to bed, and about fifteen minutes later here come eight or so firemen clomping into my bedroom in their heavy rubber boots. Pretty funny, but I was too embarrassed and sick to appreciate the humor. They took me to a local hospital where I got the absolute worst, worst, WORST, ER crew.
I was very dehydrated, but unfortunately I didn't realize how badly or how sick I was. When they tried to draw blood, my hand drew up and lost all feeling. I pointed this out to them, and they said, Oh, that's no big deal. They sent me home with two antibiotics and two pain killers and told me to see my primary care physician if I didn't get better.
I made an appointment with my PCP for Monday afternoon and suffered through the weekend. The visit to the PCP is its own comedy of errors I shall save for my next post.
It's good to be back on the net.