Surgery, Removals, Visions and Additions

I assume that will give you plenty to think about as we start this thing. What a past few days this has been; nothing I have not been through before, and yet I am finding myself restarting something that I did not plan for.

On Monday, I had a fairly common surgery, a laparoscopy, or in layman’s terms, my gall bladder was removed. I’m told it is a useless organ that no one requires, and it’s just there. Well, it does serve some use, I suppose.

In December, I had an attack of pancreatitis, and if you’ve never had that, it feels like you’re having a heart attack. I thought I was; thankfully, gallstones were the diagnosis. I’ve had two stents put in my bile duct, had a lesion checked for cancer (none), and got the big problem out of the way this week.

Monday was the day, and my dear friend Alice drove me to Hershey Medical Center, a sprawling campus that feels like a lot of things were added on. Alice knew it well; her late mother had been there for some time, and Alice wasn’t thrilled with how the later in life and the dying are considered, or not.

I’ve never been comfortable with that building; it just seems too big. I’ve gotten lost in it in the past. Anyway, we were directed to the right place, and I got the 1/4-mile ride through the maze, past the retro 70s section with the oblong-shaped windows, and all that. To Pre-Op.

Several people in a tiny waiting room (my second), and I was quickly taken in. My memory fades at this point, because apparently I went to another room somewhere. I met my surgeon (Dr. Winder is a very sharp guy, and a pro); and he went over what would occur.

The inevitable stripping and the use of glorified Dude Wipes to clean myself (no, nothing on my body the night before they warned), and the inevitable gown (why are they called Johnnies?), the non-slip ankle socks (a gigantic faux pas, fashion-wise, I believe), the rigging of the IV, the EKG monitor, and the nurses.

I must again offer respect to the nursing staff. I went to a college that was one of the toughest in New England for nursing students, so I had a good idea of what was coming. One of the nurses regaled Alice and me about her time in the Navy, and how she’d had a procedure before going into nursing, and how her piss turned blue. She thought it was cool.

I was in good hands.

The anesthesiologist showed up to talk about the gas passing, and then two more nurses, who would be in the OR during all this. Two very nice, highly professional women, and everyone in the place had a sense of humor. You need one if you see blood, gore, guts, brains, body parts, and death.

The most intriguing thing was the ride in the gurney…I was turned out of the room and down a long corridor, narrow, small, oldish, dodging mobile workstations. What stunned me was all of the patients: there had to be more than two dozen people in every one of those cubicles, prepped, hooked up, ready for what procedures I didn’t know. It felt a bit dystopian, and also like my recollections of hospitals decades ago.

The OR was behind these big steel doors, and the theater was small but bright, and ready for me. Lucky me—the previous patient’s surgery was canceled, so I got moved up—yay.

I remember seeing the giant cart of surgical tools, and wondered how many they would need for me. On the table, masked, and eventually I drifted right off.

I woke up in the first of two recovery rooms. Not fun. Pain…five or six holes poked in my body, my head not feeling too good, not being able to say much, but a damned sight less painful than the worst surgery I’d ever had. So it’s fine.

The good doctor arrived, and said it all went perfectly, though he had to move around one side of my whatevers to get to my this and that; but they got the offending organ out! I’ll take that.

Another recovery room. Still not all there, but Alice was brought in, and eventually I managed to dress, have a piss on my own power, and we got out of there.

Now we come to the real nightmare. THE HEADACHE.

Headaches are the worst thing to me; only a sore throat is worse, or perhaps preparing for a colonoscopy. The anesthetic didn’t leave me for a while. I spent Monday night and all of Tuesday with a perpetual headache that rivals a migraine for intensity. Water is about all that flushes the drugs out; there are lots of them.

I am told to take Tylenol and Advil on three-hour relays. They also gave me opioids—Oxycodone, which I did not use. I know enough about those to stay clear of them.

You get into some weird headspace when you are alone except for Kao. I could not sleep, and I drifted in and out of story ideas, book ideas, and characters that started to become somewhat real to me in this drug-induced haze. I hope I can remember enough. One story I have has possibilities, and the main character was the last one to reveal themselves to me. They may have, so we’ll see.

I could not read anything, due to the pain and just not being able to think straight. I listened to a lot of YouTube audio, podcasts, and other things, and that helped.

Wednesday was supposed to be my return to work day, but I couldn’t do it. Still too out of it. The head pretty much left during the day, and I was able to eat a little bit. I’m on my low-fat, Mediterranean diet again, but I think I can handle it.

My weight loss program is clicking along well. I lost 18 pounds during the pancreatitis attack. So far I have lost six more—how much does a gall bladder weigh?

Also watched a very intriguing movie—Chungking Express. Weirdly evocative, brilliant cinematography and acting. The director’s In the Mood for Love is a masterpiece, but this one has much to go for it.

So yes, today, I got back to work, and I muddled through. My voice isn’t what it should be, but no one’s complaining. I think I can function. The lack of appetite, but the need to eat, and also drink, is something to be careful about. My incisions (all over my belly and side) are a little picky. They don’t hurt much, but I have to move slow and really be careful.

No lifting over ten pounds. I’m going to look strange dragging things into my house, but whatever.

After several days in the house, I ventured out to get food and do errands. I limited myself to basics, and I’ll be just fine.

I have to say, after the ruptured spleen issue in 1994, and the ordeal that followed- nearly two years- I’ll accept this as a setback. Time slows down, and you think harder about things. One of the characters in the new story has to have a pretty heavy surgery, and I’ll be drawing on my own experiences.

Now…how about brighter things?

Sunbury Press Books is doing something interesting, and in News/Events you will see more of that in the coming weeks. Seattle-based author Guy Morris started a network for local/regional authors to join together and secure book events at a lesser price. The AEN now has a Pennsylvania chapter. Lawrence, our publisher, loved it. We have begun efforts to secure and split tables at fairs, markets, and other events around the region. I’m going to go for a few of these; I have never had a lot of success at such things, but who knows what could occur? It’ll also be good to see friends a bit more, and yes, see the public.

“Look what I do when you don’t see me!”

I’ll talk more about those in later posts.

Also, I was granted a bit of an ego boost and joy yesterday. My medal arrived from the 2026 Storytrade Book Awards. I was one of four finalists in the Young Adult-Contemporary category for The Legend of the Black Swan. There was some definite competition, based on the winner and the others in nearby divisions.

I feel I’m on the right track, and headed for what I’m after. Not awards, but finally my peers seeing that I’m putting in the work, and someone thinks about me enough that I rated that.

I can’t tell you how many book contests I’ve done where I heard nothing—and that’s nothing to be sad about. You just didn’t hit the right people. Also, you do have to be careful; expenses must be considered. I go for those which are lower priced, and have some cred behind them.

Also book events…I did Book Fair @ Bel Air, and while fun, the less said, the better. Not going back. Too expensive, too much headache, and yet fun…but it has a price tag that’s too big.

So yes, things are good. I’m healing, and I’m feeling like I will regain myself this fall. I kind of have to—so much is required of me.

Also, check out the BookSpeak Network—lots of new podcast episodes are coming in the next several weeks, and you will find them of interest.

Time to get on—and also, Rest in Power, Frank Beard. You were the engine that made ZZ Top go. You guys were always a blues band to me, even with all the toys and stuff.

Peace, Out.