Just a quickie tonight because guess what? I’m tired!

Today is “Thursdays on the First” here in Rochester. (That’s not the right name, but John and I are blanking). First refers to the street, and every Thursday during the summer, people gather on the street near the Mayo Clinic to eat from vendors and listen to music and just hang out. It’s so nice and the weather is perfect. John and I ate at an outdoor restaurant, then wandered around eating gelato and taking pictures. The only picture I liked (that I took) was of this adorable shelter dog (”Jeffery”) looking for an adoptive family. It’s good I don’t live closer or he might have to come home with me.

Things are going well! I still have another result to get, but I’m feeling very optimistic that I am just fine. It’s hard for me to express how grateful I am for this opportunity, because the answers I’m getting are indeed new and different from any I’ve received before. And so far, I like them better!

Being in a huge medical setting makes me remember with some longing how much I loved being a medical social worker. I’ve been so lucky to have had two careers I adore. I hope I’ll have time some day to volunteer in a hospital.

And finally, for those of you who think I’m so brave, I flunked the oven test! Apparently begging to be released before I reached an internal temperature of 100.4 degrees made the test useless, so that torture was for naught. If I had it to do over again. . . well, I don’t ever want to have to do it over again!

‘Night all.

Serious kudos to the Mayo Clinic.

This place operates with a sort of efficiency I’ve never before experienced. I had three tests scheduled today. One at 7:30, another at 10:30, another at 1:30. That’s a lot of waiting between tests. When I finished my 7:30 test, I went to the area where the 10:30 would be given to see if I could possibly be taken in earlier. Sure! Why not? I was out of there by 9:30. That worked so well, I zipped over to the 1:30 appointment to see if I could make the magic happen again. I was in and out by 10:30, back to the hotel and napping by 11, with all test results already in the computer and winging their way to my doctor. Unreal. Then John and I went out for a leisurely lunch and an afternoon of hanging out with the Midwife. (Yes, we’re both hanging out with the midwife. John’s reading the manuscript as I edit).

For those of you yelling at me because I’m working while here, I need to set you straight. Being able to work is joy for me. First, I get to lose myself in the world of people who are ever so much more screwed up than I am.    Second, I love writing. It’s that simple.

My first test today was an EMG, which I bet a bunch of you have had, followed by that stick-needles-in-your-muscles test, the correct name of which I’ve forgotten and which is not as bad as it sounds. I’ve learned my iPod is my friend during those two tests. For the first, I listened to oldies, but the technician scolded me for tapping my toes in time to the music, so for the second, I switched to my mindfulness meditation music, sung by the beautiful Anh Huong Nguyen, whom I know from the Mindfulness Center in Oakton, Virginia. Perfect. I barely felt a thing.

Second test involved more “sweat” stuff (they are very into sweat here), although this time I didn’t actually have to sweat, thank goodness. That was followed by some breathing tests, which were followed by 5 minutes on the tilt table. Five minutes was enough. I really am not sure why being strapped to a table set 90 degrees to the floor was so icky feeling, but it was. I’ve heard that people with serious fainting problems, which I fortunately do not have, have to spend about 45 minutes on the tilt table. I would rather go back in the oven.

The final test of the day involved a really big needle that I don’t want to think about, so we’ll move right along!  I just checked the instructions for tomorrow’s test. Here they are:

a) Be sure to get a good night’s sleep the night before the test.

b) Do not take any sleep aid, pain medications, alcohol or tranquilizers the night before the test.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t think “a” is going to be possible for me without a little bit of “b” tonight.

On another note, I’m almost finished Geraldine Brooks’ absolutely amazing People of the Book, so any suggestions for what I should read next on my Kindle are most welcome!

And I was the turkey.

I met with a neurologist this morning and had a very thorough exam. He informed me I would have a “busy few days” ahead of me. He wasn’t kidding. Within minutes, a ”scheduler” had reams of paper prepared for me, outlining my testing appointments as well as instructions on how to prepare for each of the tests. I then scooted off for my bloodwork (15 vials worth!) and then on to my afternoon test, which is where the turkey comes in.

The Thermoregulatory Sweat Test. Not fun for someone who hates to be hot, but Mayo is a good place to remind oneself that other people have it lots worse. I so wish I’d been able to get a picture of myself after this test for the blog, but frankly, I was not in the mood!

So the test: first, you get naked and put a little paper cap on your head. Then you lie down on a gurney and the really nice technician places “modesty cloths” strategically over the parts of your body you’d most like covered. Then she gives you “sunglasses” to protect your eyes before spraying a beigy brown powder on all exposed skin. She slips a probe designed to keep track of your temperature in your mouth. Next, it’s into the oven–a long rectangular box filled with lights and wires and apparently, a camera, though I never did quite figure that part out.   

Music begins to play. Lots of light Sinatra-era music, although a beautiful piece from The Piano somehow worked its way in there. Then the heat lamps come on with a vengeance. I think I mentioned how I hate being hot? I’ll spare you all the mental gymastics I went through to keep my mind off the fact that I was suffocating. The objective is to stay in the box until your temperature reaches 100.4 degrees. I didn’t last quite that long, so my fingers are crossed they got the info they need.

Every few minutes, the technician opens one of the four little windows on the sides of the box and dusts more powder on whatever limb is closest to her. I felt for all the world like a turkey being basted.

About that beigy brown powder. When it gets wet, it turns purple. I looked like a giant grape by the time I was wheeled out of the oven. Then comes the shower–cue the Psycho theme music!  What a revolting mess. I feel so bad for whoever has to clean that bathroom after one of these tests.

I’m so impressed with the clockwork precision of this place. So far, everything has been done quickly and efficiently and people have been exceptionally nice, as though they love their work. Plus, the buildings themselves are stunning, and being in beautiful surroundings can only lift your spirits.

So that was my day. I want to spend a little time with the Midwife before turning in early. First test tomorrow is at 7:30 am–the middle of the night for this nightowl. 

Sleep tight, everyone.

Getting to Rochester, MN was a snap. No delays at all, and I love flying into little airports where you practically have the place to yourself and your baggage is sitting there waiting for you. I love flying, period. Sometimes when I think about the cost of airfare, I think how amazing it is that for a few hundred dollars, I can have a view of the earth from thousands of feet up. As long as the flight’s not too bumpy or too long, that’s sheer joy for me. It’s the same feeling I get when I look out at the ocean. It always reminds me of this quote: “We’re not human beings having a spiritual experience. We’re spiritual beings having a human experience.” I find that very comforting.

Flying over Minnesota was lovely–so green and, well, full of corn. Really pretty.

Years ago, I had to take a train across New Jersey for a book event. The train was called something like “The Atlantic City Express.” AC, of course, is where people go to gamble, and the train was full of folks who were getting an early start on the fun. Playing cards were everywhere, cash and chips were changing hands, and even the porters were participating. It was clear to me, a stranger to their world, that these people did this regularly and the train was their home away from home.

That was the feeling I had on the flight between Chicago and Rochester. Not that anyone was playing cards, but just about everyone seemed to be on that flight for the same reason–to go to the Mayo Clinic. The couple in the seats in front of my were on their way from Alaska. The woman across the aisle was from Texas. A young woman who slept fitfully for the hour flight was from Maine. When I disembarked, I saw a long line of wheelchairs and airport staff waiting to transport the passengers to baggage claim and I felt humbled, grateful for whatever good health I have. I only hope my fellow flyers find their answers here.  

John and I were starving, so we had lunch at the City Cafe, which was excellent. (So strange to order iced tea and not have to add the word “unsweet” to the request.) I ate plenty since tonight is a fasting night and now I plan to do a little work. Fellow author, JoAnn Ross, shared her own Mayo experience with me and told me not to even think of working, so tonight may be my only chance to hang around with the midwife.

Tomorrow, the games begin. I’m nervous and excited and grateful for good health insurance and a partner who just really gets what it means to be supportive. 

To be continued. . .

How many of you have ever lived with mystery symptoms? A bunch of you, I bet. (They are not all in your head. I believe you!) I have some mystery symptoms that have been going on for a few years now and my doctor and I finally made the decision that I should pay a little visit to the Mayo Clinic. I hope I’ll feel up to blogging about the experience, because one of the things I’ve found most helpful in the months leading up to this decision was reading online about other people’s experiences at the Clinic. The one thing I won’t be doing is sharing specifics, though, because I’d like the doctors rather than my readers to speculate about what’s going on with this crazy body!

I was hoping to type The End (once again) on The Midwife’s Confession today, but packing, installing the housesitter, and other general nuttiness got in the way, so the midwife and all her many vices will be going with me, making my suitcase extremely heavy. Seriously, I just plunked the fat manuscript in the middle of my folded clothing and I’m not sure I’ll be able to lift the suitcase off the bed. I have no idea if I’ll have any time to take a look at the midwife and her friends while I’m away, but she’s coming with me anyway.

Tomorrow (Monday) is a travel day. I’ve heard such travel horror stories lately that I hope we reach Minnesota (cooler weather. yeah!) without any major delays. We’ve booked a nice hotel, because I want to be comfy in between the poking and prodding. Since my favorite thing about traveling is eating, I was bummed to learn that I can’t have anything good for dinner tomorrow night (no dairy, salad dressing, fat, etc) in preparation, I assume, for a mega blood draw at my examination on Tuesday. I guess that examination will tell them what tests I’ll be having the rest of the week . . .and maybe into the following week. I’ve been told to expect to be there 4 to 7 working days, so making plane and hotel reservations was a little challenging.

I’ve got to get back to packing, but I’ll keep you posted on my big adventure. In the meantime, if you have mystery symptoms I hope you have compassionate doctors, a supportive family and a good dollop of inner peace to carry you through.

It’s so strange to be able to show you the cover of a book I’m still revising, but here it is! It will be in your hands May 2011. I hope!

Can we talk about sleep?

I’d love to know your falling asleep tricks, because I need some!

The first problem is that I’m a natural nightowl and always have been. As a little kid, I couldn’t wait to go to bed so I could lay awake making up stories. It probably took me two hours to fall asleep every night because I was busy weaving tales that would have curled my mother’s hair, had she known what was going on in my strange little head. When the alarm went off in the morning I was, naturally, exhausted. I had a bunch of pillows on my bed and I kept adding one to the pile behind my back until I was fully vertical. I’m not kidding. It was the only way I could make getting up bearable.

This pattern lasted well into adulthood, the only difference being I was now getting paid for making up stories, so at least my nightowlishness had monetary value. But in the mid-nineties, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. One of the symptoms of RA is fatigue. Soon, all day felt like first-thing-in-the-morning to me. Only people who have suffered from some version of chronic fatigue really understand how debilitating this can be. It’s a sucking down, overwhelming tiredness and the only cure is to climb back into bed. I slept for about ten hours each night and added a couple of naps during the daytime. Then the drug researchers invented the good stuff and I got my life back. Ever since then (about ten years now), I feel as though I’m making up for all the time I lost to fatigue. I may nap twice a month, if that, and I hate losing the time when I could be doing something more productive. I also am once again a nightowl, staying up until one or two . . . or three. . . working or reading for pleasure. I get up around eight, so that’s not too bad. And I don’t get tired during the day, so I must be getting enough sleep.

So what am I complaining about? I want to be tired at night, like normal people. I want to turn out the light at midnight and fall asleep instead of thinking about my book or my life or my loved ones or everything on my to-do list. I’ve tried the typical relaxation techniques. I’ve tried meditating. Listening to soft music. Counting backwards from 100. Listing the states in alphabetical order. You name it, I’ve tried it.

Am I alone in this? Are you one of those lucky people who falls asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow? Or are you a nightowl who’s found the secret to beating your internal clock? How’s your sleep?

I am DEEP in the middle of revisions on a very tight schedule, but I had to do a book event at the coast, revisions or not. I use the words “had to” with a smile. An opportunity to meet readers in a beautiful setting is not exactly torture.  This particular event was so much fun! It was held at the Silver Coast Winery near Sunset Beach, North Carolina, where readers and authors came together to sip wine and chat and sign books. It was lovely, and the Pelican Bookstore in Ocean Isle sponsors this event each year, so if you want to plan a little getaway to the NC coast next year, you know where and when to go!

Since Sunset Beach is a good 3 1/2 hours from my house, I decided to spend the night and discovered the most fabulous Bed and Breakfast! The Sunset Inn is right on the marsh and each beautiful room has its own little screened porch with two rocking chairs. I’m in love with this inn! I just had a fabulous hot breakfast and am about to pack up to leave and head back to reality. Sigh.

One of the highlights of this getaway was the result of Facebook. I admit I have become a Facebook-aholic. I’ve always loved chatting with my readers via this blog, and FB is like the blog on steroids. I’ve gotten to know  so many of my readers via FB and “met” so many new ones. One of my FB friends is a woman named Debbie, who connected with me after her stepdaughter recommending my books. Debbie and I got to know each other through FB and she her her BFF Terri decided to make the five-hour trek from their homes near Charlotte to Sunset Beach for the event at the winery. They joined me at the Sunset Inn and we went out to dinner together last night. It was as though we’ve known each other all our lives. Facebook is such an amazing gift when it comes to bringing people together.

I have to admit, though, that I am excited to get home, not just to see John and my pups but also to get back to the revisions. I love how I’m changing the story of  The Midwife’s Confession and can’t wait to find out what happens! Hope you’re all having as good a week as I am.

Well, I’m bummed! I only now found out that today is National Ice Cream Day. It’s nearly 9 pm and I already had my Breyers light brownie ice cream sandwich for dessert, which frankly is no substitute for a bowl of Edy’s Slow-Churned French Silk. If I’d known it was National Ice Cream Day, I would have run down to the nearest store (which happens to be one of those little stores connected to a gas station. Not pretty.) and bought a couple of pints of Ben and Jerry’s and not felt guilty about it, but now I’m full and it’s too late. 

My curiosity was piqued. What other holidays are coming up? I checked out this week and here’s the lineup: Tomorrow is National Daquiri Day, but since I’m a non-imbiber, I’ll sit that one out. Tuesday is lollipop day. Did you know that lollipop machines make nearly 6,000 lollipops a minute? Wednesday I’m definitely going to celebrate! National Junk Food Day! I am unbelievably neurotic about food safety in my kitchen. I drive John nuts with the hand washing, the not-using-the-same-utensils-on-raw-and-cooked food, the sniffing of the milk, etc. But put me in a Taco Bell (burritos!) or Bojangles (biscuits!) or Wendy’s (taco salad!) and I’ll never give their kitchen a thought. (Please don’t tell me horror stories. Let me live in blissful ignorance!)

Thursday is National Hammock Day and I wish I had one. When I need to go to my Happy Place in my head, it’s in a hammock hanging under tall green trees. Instant relaxation. Friday is National Hot Dog Day, and I have to admit that’s another edible that I eat without thinking about what’s in it and how long it’s been rolling on those long, hot metal tubes at Target.

I just realized that Wednesday–National Junk Food Day–is the day I’ll be part of an event at the Silver Coast Winery near Ocean Isle, North Carolina, so I think I’ll be sipping club soda and nibbling something very non-junky there. You’re all invited to join me! I understand it’s a lovely location. There’s no cover charge, just a chance to meet and chat and sip. There will be a few other writers on hand and the Pelican Bookstore will supply books for a signing. If you’re anywhere near the area between 1-4 on Wednesday July 21st, I hope you’ll stop by.

Right now, I’d like to proclaim this evening “National What Are You Reading Evening”. As for me, I’m enjoying Karen White’s On Folly Beach. Now I know how to answer when people ask who I write like! I feel as though I’m reading one of my own books, probably because Karen and I both love mixing past and present and we love to keep our readers guessing. Also the beach setting, of course, and dipping back into coastal Carolina history during World War II. I think Karen and I must have been separated at birth. Obviously, I’m enjoying this book a great deal and highly recommend it.

How about you? What are you reading now?

It’s been fun having Secret Lives available as an e-book and I’ve enjoyed hearing from those of you who are reading it for the first time. Now I need to figure out which of my out-of-print books I should make available next. Whether you read e-books or not, I’d love your help in this decision. If you’ve read my early books, which was your favorite? Or if you haven’t read them, which sounds most intriguing to you? I apologize to those of you who only read print books and wish I could accommodate you as well. I hope they will be reissued some day by my publisher. Thanks so much for your help.

 The choices (with the original bookcovers) are:

 The Escape Artist: A young woman, about to lose custody of her eleven-month-old son, takes the toddler and escapes to Annapolis, Maryland to start a new life, leaving behind the man she loves. In Annapolis, she’s befriended by a mural artist with secrets of his own. When she stumbles into a dangerous situation that could cost people their lives, she’s unable to turn to the authorities because she’s on the run.

From Library Journal: “. . . a moving tale of parental love and desperation.” From Kirkus Reviews: “A sure-fire grabber.”

Reflection: Twenty years ago, a tragedy struck the Pennsylvania town of Reflection and everyone holds one woman, Rachel Huber, responsible for what happened. When Rachel returns to care for her elderly grandmother, she discovers she has only one person in her corner–a Mennonite minister who was her childhood friend. As the story shifts between past and present, secrets unfold, a romance blossoms, and both the town and Rachel are put to the test.  

From the Richmond Times Dispatch: “. . .  as the plots interlock, the reader is swept into the town’s emotion and suspense.”

Fire and Rain: The tiny southern California town, Valle Rosa, is withered by drought and ravaged by wildfires when a stranger appears, promising he can create rain. He asks only for total privacy while he works, but he becomes the center of two women’s worlds–Mia, who falls in love with him, and Carmen, who vows to learn his true identity at all costs. Neither woman realizes that their involvement with him can jeopardize far more than the future of Valle Rosa.

From Publishers Weekly: “Nearly every chapter finishes with the sort of emotional jolt that keeps the pages turning.”

Brass Ring: Claire Harte-Mathias tries unsuccessfully to save a woman who leaps from a bridge in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. As she tries to understand the reasons for the woman’s suicide,  Claire is jarred by frightening, half-hidden memories. Torn between the love and support of two men–her husband and the brother of the woman on the bridge–she tries to make sense of the images that haunt her, discovering that the past, present and future are intertwined in a way she is powerless to change.

From the Chicago Tribune: “You’d think there’s nowhere for a story to go after a distraught woman plunges to her death in an icy river, but Brass Ring will prove you wrong.”