tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23432437476802910652024-03-05T05:10:50.652-06:00Cat TalesCatherine (Cat) is a small town author of "The Key to Her Heart" and pursuing publication of her next novel "Patrick's Rose". This is a chronicle of her endeavors, reviews of other great novels, journeys, lessons learned, and life lived as she pursues her goal and lifelong dream of authorship.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.comBlogger151125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-59297915590378679322017-11-05T15:48:00.001-06:002017-11-09T23:13:25.861-06:00Success or Failure?<p dir="ltr">What constitutes success and what constitutes failure?  </p>
<p dir="ltr">If someone does their best effort and produces a superior product but it does not do well in the marketplace despite giving it the best marketing and advertising possible, is that person a failure?</p>
<p dir="ltr">How about a writer who writes an incredible story, edits it until it is as close to perfect as they can get it, but no publisher will take a chance at their work. So they indie publish, do all they can to sell it, give it an excellent cover, but it also does not fare well. Is that writer a failure?</p>
<p dir="ltr">How about a woman who battles to get out of bed each morning and is suffering depression, but each morning gets up and begins the day. She cannot bring herself to leave her house but she is up and keeps herself busy with what she can do. She works hard even though no one knows. As much as she can she keeps her life bright and she doesn't give up even when she most wants to, but she is not able to work or even socialize. Is she a failure?</p>
<p dir="ltr">I believe each of these people are  successful. Success is not based on the ultimate outcome but on the daily fight to do more than you thought you could.</p>
<p dir="ltr">How about the mother that has the child that throws the tantrum in the middle of the store and she quietly calms her child and holds him, pouring her love on him just for him to begin screaming a moment later. Finally she picks him up and leaves the place.  In her car she hugs him, cuddles him, and swallows her tears. This is the toddlerhood and young childhood she deals with for her child but despite the exhaustion she keeps going and gives all she can even as everyone challenges her and tells her she isn't a good mother because her child throws tantrums.<br>
Has she truly failed as a mother?</p>
<p dir="ltr">The last scenario was me 27 years ago. My daughter was born screaming and threw tantrums especially in public and people would roll their eyes or tell me what I needed to do, which little did they know, I had tried and it had not worked. This continued into older childhood and turned into rages where I had to hold her against her will to protect her and my younger children. The last one she had was around 16. We found out when she was 5 they are a form of a seizure. She and I worked hard to stop her seizure disorder, and as an adult she is one of the most gentle parents I know and yet I often call her 'our family bull dog' because any sticky situation this family has she is the person not afraid to tackle it. Was I a failure as a parent? No. Honestly I think I succeeded at getting my daughter to adulthood as whole as possible. Was I accused of failing? Yes. At the time I would have agreed... What was wrong with my parenting that my child couldn't be 'normal'? Her teen years really made me wonder too. Then she grew into a woman that I am very proud to be the mother of. But she is different. As she has been since she was born. She lives by a beat that is all her own.  When I ask her about what I could have done different she tells me, "Mom I don't think I would have made it if I had a different mother."</p>
<p dir="ltr">Success starts inside. It begins with believing you can. Then taking the risk to do something. Finally it is not giving up even though the odds are against you. It is that stubborn will that does not give up or give in.  To outsiders it does not look like much sometimes. What do you think of the person that chooses to smile even though the effort takes all the energy they have?  What about yourself? What something have you done that still gives you a smile though the results may have been less than you were hoping? These are successes and you can count yourself successful. Success is not about the outcome as much as the tenacity to keep going and keep getting up even when we have been knocked down. People who are successful never give in, never let fear stop them, overcome obsticles even when it is not recognized, and in the end their good work is seen. Though, honestly it may not be noticed in their lifetime.  </p>
<p dir="ltr">People who are failures let fear lead them. They give up when it gets hard. They do not stand by those that love them. They are looking for a fast fix to get their time in the limelight. These are the people I would consider at risk for failure. But anyone can change. I won't count anyone out. Even someone who has always lived in fear may one day look up and realize they want to do things different.</p>
<p dir="ltr">So keep working at it. Do your best and know you are succeeding even though the world does not see. There is One much higher that does and that One's opinion counts a hell of a lot more than this world. You are not a failure no matter how bad it seems.</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is Cat out with a little bit of encouragement for you and also myself.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-29124051944115718072017-11-02T12:59:00.000-05:002017-11-02T12:59:30.985-05:00November! Hooray!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLE-bVLlLTeKHK7bAQHDJ9xkKG_LM7b-Z1QdnFGgbh8bo4zLQfBX_PwlbfcZSY5AA1vCPT2q1-QZciiT00iFhmLABKJWA66FdR1-BRW2p8gwFb-j_aarkbc2GEliQLxRqQ_ZixA3iDVMw/s1600/november+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="334" data-original-width="500" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLE-bVLlLTeKHK7bAQHDJ9xkKG_LM7b-Z1QdnFGgbh8bo4zLQfBX_PwlbfcZSY5AA1vCPT2q1-QZciiT00iFhmLABKJWA66FdR1-BRW2p8gwFb-j_aarkbc2GEliQLxRqQ_ZixA3iDVMw/s640/november+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
October was crazy! Some of it fun, some of it not so much. <br />
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Two of my daughter's got married last month... That was wonderful but very time consuming especially because one wedding was 4 hours away and the other 2 hours. The other thing that took up time was my teenage son's legal issues. I told someone on September 30th, when they were hoping my life would get calmer... "Nope there are two weddings and a court date in my October." Their eyes went wide. And so it was, but now we have November.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihAdYJ0D4kvKpytIAuOJBmLJLffNejp95QYZJT8oNzO8_R_foYU1cBxnak-joJ1AOhggkhyphenhyphenlOglH8LyEm7FGNdhNT48_YUUWIMm1ZzqX-5G0Pkc3kRA0kTAjkpKqWiVTJthjrYjBk5PDk/s1600/november+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihAdYJ0D4kvKpytIAuOJBmLJLffNejp95QYZJT8oNzO8_R_foYU1cBxnak-joJ1AOhggkhyphenhyphenlOglH8LyEm7FGNdhNT48_YUUWIMm1ZzqX-5G0Pkc3kRA0kTAjkpKqWiVTJthjrYjBk5PDk/s200/november+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
So November... The golden month. It is the tad bit of peace before the Christmas season. This is the few weeks to get my house decent and ready to decorate... It never happens quite the way I want it to, but it gets closer. This is my and my husband's birthday month, and I like our birthdays. So of all months... my favorite. It is not freezing nor boiling. Just a little bit of peaceful, slower, and at the end one of my favorite holidays...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtk0YJ1whftMV4t97GWZEAmmSv9I9xZykUYmOiRYXFxXxQ1dWfCSnqDqWaTO84ex5mLuShJP9vhX2eE-9jKF8JDReLpatPthllSZDYOnwPcdtbwJdwa_o5ElltB8ypviccc9bxtHLmKsk/s1600/thnakful+thanksgiving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtk0YJ1whftMV4t97GWZEAmmSv9I9xZykUYmOiRYXFxXxQ1dWfCSnqDqWaTO84ex5mLuShJP9vhX2eE-9jKF8JDReLpatPthllSZDYOnwPcdtbwJdwa_o5ElltB8ypviccc9bxtHLmKsk/s200/thnakful+thanksgiving.jpg" width="200" /></a>Thanksgiving. Not just because of the food, but because it is born of a thankful heart. It is a time to gather with family and friends and be grateful for what you have and those in your life. It is so fitting that it comes right before Christmas. It is not a <i>give me</i>, <i>give me</i>, <i>give me</i> time, but a day set aside to reflect and smile at the blessings that have been given. I love that about Thanksgiving. I also love spending the days before making my family's favorite dishes to please and awe them. <br />
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For whatever reason creating good foods for them gives me immense pleasure. So everything I place on that long table is homemade, and suited to all the allergy problems my kiddos and I have. I love seeing my 6 year old be able to eat stuffing and pie even though she has Celiacs and is allergic to <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4PxOj3kQnRayovfrbYocoUBLTTZrq_dmkwDOZlMmM_PtJWNQaAAfLYoewbjWfFdF8vut4XYOlhskLWdTN29nrUlBpWO7V7KMek8wf-K5123yoxwBzrZEigyCINMT3O6uz8J6YUbtOTg/s1600/thnaksgiving+table+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="960" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4PxOj3kQnRayovfrbYocoUBLTTZrq_dmkwDOZlMmM_PtJWNQaAAfLYoewbjWfFdF8vut4XYOlhskLWdTN29nrUlBpWO7V7KMek8wf-K5123yoxwBzrZEigyCINMT3O6uz8J6YUbtOTg/s320/thnaksgiving+table+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
dairy. At Thanksgiving she comes to the food table and she has as many options as I can give her. She doesn't have to feel her battle with food and that makes me happy. <br />
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This year I have a new challenge. My best friend has changed her dietary needs by doctor's orders. She cannot have starch or sugar. So I am going to find a way to make stuffing that she can have. I am looking forward to the challenge. I might even work on some kind of pie... Just because I know I can and because it will give her a smile.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHLWi0J4SrYwU7V_8m7pT57RK5eymvLify5FrnFTAWbqU8xL3MCNwfwg7Wlj6wsdoNTUw3QEIeclULNaZREdB1LI_c9772ZW_RwLgqKlug6ChxJGwJTTeKtWbmJIkqK9yB9BQoimn3h1g/s1600/CatHerzog-72dpi-1500x2000+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHLWi0J4SrYwU7V_8m7pT57RK5eymvLify5FrnFTAWbqU8xL3MCNwfwg7Wlj6wsdoNTUw3QEIeclULNaZREdB1LI_c9772ZW_RwLgqKlug6ChxJGwJTTeKtWbmJIkqK9yB9BQoimn3h1g/s200/CatHerzog-72dpi-1500x2000+%25282%2529.jpg" width="150" /></a>There is something else about November... It is the month that writers try to write 50k words. Though my goal is not that high, I would like to finish writing <b><i>Her Hidden Thorn</i></b> then my editor will have two to edit, and hopefully with finishing both, we can go on to publishing both-- who knows, at this rate, both at the same time. I am looking forward to finishing Anna and Patrick's story and going on to writing Grace and Alex's story. <br />
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Grace and Alex are like night and day when compared to Anna or Patrick... Both are feisty and impulsive, and have regrets that are larger than life. Grace has a huge secret that she hides from everyone just to make sure Alex doesn't find out, but what happens when it gets out? By the time that happens there might be another secret just as big. Then there is Lizzie... She is Grace's little daughter. Alex is determined that Lizzie needs a father, and that father should be him much to Grace's chagrin. It is a fun story and I am itching to finish writing it! But first I have to finish <i><b>Her Hidden Thorn</b></i>... So to November! And to being a writer! <br />
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I really love November! Hope you have a wonderful month.<br />
This is Cat out.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-27627461999034690032017-10-25T22:01:00.002-05:002017-10-25T22:01:35.654-05:00Maxine's Key-- why is it important<br />
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In <b><i>The Key to Her Heart</i></b> there is an old key hung on a chain that originally belonged to Anna's grandmother, Maxine. There literally is a full written back story for Maxine that a few years ago I seriously considered publishing but then in the last book of <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Heart of a Family Series</i>, <i><b>The Lattimier Curse</b></i> it pretty much is the foundation that story is built on. So I have digressed...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKEQRVUchgS7m9CB1-A1ZLnaUHu6sZKYpmXhwqD-AwczTwIYgmwimE-TsDLD8rTQGtMY6lUJCNqA3FpKCnwWh4QV8iwK_9vlxCqOF16k4S7xZeyQYR1h7u2luq_DV0J3mk5xb6MKvpms/s1600/old+door+key.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="800" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKEQRVUchgS7m9CB1-A1ZLnaUHu6sZKYpmXhwqD-AwczTwIYgmwimE-TsDLD8rTQGtMY6lUJCNqA3FpKCnwWh4QV8iwK_9vlxCqOF16k4S7xZeyQYR1h7u2luq_DV0J3mk5xb6MKvpms/s320/old+door+key.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The key is a symbol of safety... Or rather of being able to bring safety. In Maxine's story she is abused by her step father as a young girl. Finally at 12 with no one to protect her anymore, she steals all the inside door keys and hides them. The only one she keeps is the one to her bedroom door. Which she uses to lock her room when she leaves and when she is inside it. The key hangs around her neck so by no foul can anyone find it or trap her away from help. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisy98Tt0X1QcfifIfLef1P7tkixL8PqAtdpRDOnRJw9Ujp82RLKtRl6DHwJTifqr7e8gWz_aCfHRyWWJxxjCUmZl88lpVyxycZt5CziQZBMTqKjwu-JdoAr5A3JZEyIp8LFrz7l2bCU5I/s1600/hurt+woman+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="196" data-original-width="299" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisy98Tt0X1QcfifIfLef1P7tkixL8PqAtdpRDOnRJw9Ujp82RLKtRl6DHwJTifqr7e8gWz_aCfHRyWWJxxjCUmZl88lpVyxycZt5CziQZBMTqKjwu-JdoAr5A3JZEyIp8LFrz7l2bCU5I/s320/hurt+woman+1.jpg" width="320" /></a>Would this work in real life to stop a vile abuser? I shrug. I don't know for sure but it seems plausible. In my own story of abuse it was even less that stopped the abuser. My dad suspecting something was wrong simply asked me if I wanted to go to the man's house. I was seven and this was a family member. No one believed my dad's concerns. It just did not seem possible. So he asked me that one simple question. I told him I did not want to go there and from that point on I was never alone with my abuser. Maxine made it so she wasn't alone with her abuser by hiding her key on her person.<br />
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The key becomes the symbol of Maxine's ability to protect her physical person and in a greater sense her heart and soul. There is one young man as a teen and a young woman that she does trust. He knows the reason for her key and is there to help her and inspire love. But problems arise and she must make choices after her step father's death. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktt2Nrd0LfHIAnsbjCDLqtoa7fF2eOMhQNQpMfV5u9MJUvXaPVg1SIcGHfOJ7MXtn6O33Br9vZWf6BkUzkLXwC5UoqpIjSnLENsaswHuiCPBLaVOqSBqnIg8gqunBVQReAUoweae_9nM/s1600/CatHerzog-72dpi-1500x2000+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktt2Nrd0LfHIAnsbjCDLqtoa7fF2eOMhQNQpMfV5u9MJUvXaPVg1SIcGHfOJ7MXtn6O33Br9vZWf6BkUzkLXwC5UoqpIjSnLENsaswHuiCPBLaVOqSBqnIg8gqunBVQReAUoweae_9nM/s200/CatHerzog-72dpi-1500x2000+%25281%2529.jpg" width="150" /></a>One night she is fighting the past and present and finds herself in a position that makes her hated by everyone in her community. She runs away, leaving her home, leaving the only person that knows her secrets, the only person in the world she loves and trusts, and ultimately moves to another continent marries a man, has a child, and then returns to her hometown in her widowhood. By this time even her child does not know the story of the key she wears. Her mother's family is still angry with her for the events of her youth and who is that man that she trusts and loves? Is he there still? Has he gone on with his life? Do they get to know each other once more? Those questions actually have some answers within the story <b><i>The Key to Her Heart</i></b>. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCsMQDN0C1SDAcZ5XJ7fFK5JukNqQG4Xwzj_xKwRy9X34BYdlBx201gyt-y6aseRqsdYQUfi9JqFDaDtIn6LBVJoEC6IFKTPAPK5b0BeUeLBlbTM7COpFucFIXNhqcx_yPvTn-Y_WQVmk/s1600/CatHerzog-300dpi-3125x4167+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCsMQDN0C1SDAcZ5XJ7fFK5JukNqQG4Xwzj_xKwRy9X34BYdlBx201gyt-y6aseRqsdYQUfi9JqFDaDtIn6LBVJoEC6IFKTPAPK5b0BeUeLBlbTM7COpFucFIXNhqcx_yPvTn-Y_WQVmk/s200/CatHerzog-300dpi-3125x4167+%25284%2529.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-FDjFGSdCFpIfeEzu4ea8OoWeLFVmycB7jQJ_i8H3bsuNivLYFImM_gP-DQreswMmrxRovJgiOnzrK_rQpojisdU05DwJzeAsjoXIA-ETAf8oYV6VZG_vI8TvEyI8_7EXFLUhZnmMaM/s1600/CatHerzog-300dpi-3125x4167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-FDjFGSdCFpIfeEzu4ea8OoWeLFVmycB7jQJ_i8H3bsuNivLYFImM_gP-DQreswMmrxRovJgiOnzrK_rQpojisdU05DwJzeAsjoXIA-ETAf8oYV6VZG_vI8TvEyI8_7EXFLUhZnmMaM/s200/CatHerzog-300dpi-3125x4167.jpg" width="150" /></a> The bulk of Maxine's story I tell in <i><b>The Lattimier Curse</b></i> which is the last book in the series and helps to tie up all the different stories but I am still writing it. If you would like to understand about the key and the final answers in Maxine's life then you might want to read <b><i>The Key to Her Heart</i></b> and in the process learn more about Maxine's granddaughter, Anna, too. I will leave the link below. In the meantime <i><b>Patrick's Rose</b></i> is being edited and I am working on <i><b>Her Hidden Thorn</b></i> which continues the story of the Lattimier family and the Rueschel family. Hopefully I will have these two finished soon.<br />
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Here is the link for <b><i>The Key to Her Heart :</i></b></div>
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https://www.amazon.com/Key-Her-Heart-Family-Book-ebook/dp/B00FS6MYR8/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-36311747875140530952017-10-18T22:30:00.000-05:002017-10-18T22:30:05.330-05:00Things I want to do to change my life.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTBCGwk-5TOKx3YscOd7XldsTF2eCz8ryZx5R-JyBn8h1kNljyKKJkIRKsvYc3Ul-ribp66Hq8dENVWknDyVEeBAqsGnGJGs9UHW6MzmThIf5yO_LKpBYB3kdxy1qeH-SgIXbWbdCDtw/s1600/headless+chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1101" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTBCGwk-5TOKx3YscOd7XldsTF2eCz8ryZx5R-JyBn8h1kNljyKKJkIRKsvYc3Ul-ribp66Hq8dENVWknDyVEeBAqsGnGJGs9UHW6MzmThIf5yO_LKpBYB3kdxy1qeH-SgIXbWbdCDtw/s200/headless+chicken.jpg" width="174" /></a>Lately I have been running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. You know the feeling, you are running doing this and that but it feels more like you are going in circles than making any headway. Yep that's me lately.<br />
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This month two of my daughters are getting married (the younger just did and the middle daughter is about to.) My son is busy getting in trouble and we are expected to attend court with him. We are beginning a gluten free baked goods business, and I am homeschooling my youngest daughter. On top of that my health hasn't been the best of late. That is only the big things. The little stuff is too numerous to mention. <br />
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So my daughter and I spent some time making lists of things we could do to change our life because her life is going through radical unplanned changes and it is not fun. It feels a little (totally understated) out of control. What do I really have control of? How can I change my life? That is what my list was about... Well one of my lists. Another list was of blog topics. And yes this one was on that list. I like lists. They help me sort my ideas into doable things that I can check off. As my whole family will tell you, I love to check things off. So lists work. This is why I am sharing my list, because then maybe as I accomplish things on it I can share with you that I have done something and the results. (shrug) I don't know if this is going to work, but I have to do something so this is where I begin.<br />
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Soooo... My list of things I can do to change my life:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh62ESbtCHYB2_lqKbLRiaHIT7LWt8AbriFjFS2sDp4PGEO-O_P8xhd-EJF_d5Cl4rmx8StItP_B0BIYbMrq9FkF576ev9ED8O-MaqChkTunvXJRNeYeL8m93G6xvwSGAMtipmOynvRwc/s1600/mother+mary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="789" data-original-width="1200" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh62ESbtCHYB2_lqKbLRiaHIT7LWt8AbriFjFS2sDp4PGEO-O_P8xhd-EJF_d5Cl4rmx8StItP_B0BIYbMrq9FkF576ev9ED8O-MaqChkTunvXJRNeYeL8m93G6xvwSGAMtipmOynvRwc/s200/mother+mary.jpg" width="200" /></a>Number 1 is always about God with me because he is everything to me.<br />
1-- <b>Go to morning Mass at least a couple times a week.</b> 2 years ago I went to morning Mass almost every day, and it really helped the right focus in my life, but lately I haven't and this is the first<br />
thing I need to change.<br />
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2-- <b>Begin blogging regularly.</b> This one is hard because I avoid drama as much as possible but a few of my posts really caused a stir. That is not what I post for, and so the last several months I have been a little word shy. Last night I decided I do not live in fear. I am just me and if someone does not like it they do not have to read what I post. So right now is my start on this goal. My hope is to post once a week. We will see if I can do it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKlPIigY4VK68wKY8C60Yz4sesVMXYYgKBwYxCWQdvurmoP1WCzK7FD1-57z4t5kLmKgT3RBIflZBfPLu7_Az35oqcBandSaSw6QZzn7aBFShcn94UeUNliAUy6rfz8Tqn3OrO_TYHTGs/s1600/writng+typewriter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKlPIigY4VK68wKY8C60Yz4sesVMXYYgKBwYxCWQdvurmoP1WCzK7FD1-57z4t5kLmKgT3RBIflZBfPLu7_Az35oqcBandSaSw6QZzn7aBFShcn94UeUNliAUy6rfz8Tqn3OrO_TYHTGs/s320/writng+typewriter.jpg" width="320" /></a>3-- <b>Work on writing daily.</b> This goal is similar to blogging, but I am talking about working on the third book. I cannot control when the second book is edited. It was suppose to be ready in August, which it definitely was not. I can control what I do. So that is my goal--to do what I can do.<br />
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4-- <b>Schedule the time I need. </b> None of the above gets done if I don't do this. So maybe this should be number one, but it is here where my priorities are. If I can make sure I have the time, then I will be able to do the things I have planned.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxuGljGyOyb2RMVRx0pTGAoMJiwO3R3rocRm4UNnDXKzt7BJnqsl2zd4u0d5p81HRV3n_eQIx6UGQXF8BR-NUiaEplc1iEhVdoQY6N173thRpQS5iu5q3F9xOA_YGtl0TcbCgtc7Bx1BY/s1600/thinking+reading+child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="425" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxuGljGyOyb2RMVRx0pTGAoMJiwO3R3rocRm4UNnDXKzt7BJnqsl2zd4u0d5p81HRV3n_eQIx6UGQXF8BR-NUiaEplc1iEhVdoQY6N173thRpQS5iu5q3F9xOA_YGtl0TcbCgtc7Bx1BY/s320/thinking+reading+child.jpg" width="320" /></a>5-- <b>Helping Tory to read well & swim well.</b> My six year old has been struggling to learn to read. Teaching reading has been harder than either she or I expected but she is back to reading sentences. I say back to reading sentences because we started reading lessons when she was four years old, but she has Celiacs. Soon after she read her first story another little girl gave her an Oreo and she had her first gluten reaction. It was not pretty and in the recovery after she lost the ability to sound out words, she couldn't even remember her shapes until three months later. It took her another three months to begin reading practice and she was left with some sensory processing issues that were not there before. We began again at 5 and got to the point she was reading stories but I noticed her turning her head slightly when she was trying to read. That caused me to take her to her pediatric ophthalmologist and have her eyes checked. Sure enough she needed glasses. As she got accustomed to the glasses once more we had to take a break because this is when one of the processing issues began. We realized she wasn't tracking, and so that caused us to stop for another six months. Now she has matured more and seems to be able to track by using her finger to follow the words. Lately she hasn't complained of the words weaving across the page as she did back in February and we are making slow but steady progress. She has begun reading sentences again. We only do reading three days a week or so, because more than that seems to overwhelm her, but she is really understanding what she is doing so much better this time. In all of this I discovered Tory loves swimming, and more than anything she loves when I work with her on learning to swim. She says "Please Mom, teach more swimming! I will practice hard at it." And she does. It is so important to her but she has no clue I don't know to much swimming technique. I just know the basics enough that I can get her started. So I want to begin swimming classes at the college here in town that offers them during the winter for children.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVTPOcSUL6wJE8YLgxi6VQusSmu3dSa0d4MchfNUnIsJJ1lMjtSw1Ujwr5BRSj37bIz5sQgnXQobcbZ02p9DCHSIxuKidve-jr2DFp7S56Fsg_LnrwjM_A8pBTB274Oh5KA8vHGWzmIA/s1600/cinnamon+roll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVTPOcSUL6wJE8YLgxi6VQusSmu3dSa0d4MchfNUnIsJJ1lMjtSw1Ujwr5BRSj37bIz5sQgnXQobcbZ02p9DCHSIxuKidve-jr2DFp7S56Fsg_LnrwjM_A8pBTB274Oh5KA8vHGWzmIA/s320/cinnamon+roll.jpg" width="320" /></a>6.-- <b>Daily want to do something for our gluten free baked good business even if it is small.</b> My daughter Hope and I are working hard trying to build up enough business to build up to a bakery, but right now we sell at a farmer's market. It takes a lot of effort from both of us, but we are building up a customer base. I would like to see if a few restaurants would begin to carry some of our baked goods, and ultimately some stores...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9bU6V1Jzt9SXI_o8ygN2IB4mcd3yhaAl5qICXGaSNIZhqZuXBJLCrL4Vy4k_Cs3UUsuQnvn6TYei8KOxDIlP1GV66x6g3eCnJU2H-3M-Z8iP8a3UMRhmYFqo3NQoY_IamEJj8QEUjTaw/s1600/laughing+friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9bU6V1Jzt9SXI_o8ygN2IB4mcd3yhaAl5qICXGaSNIZhqZuXBJLCrL4Vy4k_Cs3UUsuQnvn6TYei8KOxDIlP1GV66x6g3eCnJU2H-3M-Z8iP8a3UMRhmYFqo3NQoY_IamEJj8QEUjTaw/s200/laughing+friends.jpg" width="200" /></a>7-- <b>Have time to laugh.</b> I have been so busy I get tense and I forget to look for the funny side of life. On the way back from Aurora after my daughter's wedding, my mom, Meg, and I got laughing. All of the sudden I realized how little I laugh. Those merriment moments relieved all the pressure I was feeling and even my stomach ache went away. I suddenly realized what scripture means when it says 'laughter does good like a medicine' and realized also I have to make time for laughter and enough relaxation that I will be able to laugh.<br />
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These are seven of my goals for the next few months, and maybe if I put the effort in I will feel more in control and watch life resolve itself in me... I don't know but I am planning to try. How about you? Are you struggling? Maybe make a list of things for yourself then keep in touch. I will tell you how my efforts are going and you can tell me what is working for you.<br />
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Anyway I guess that is it for right now. This is Cat out.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-22151953090487778582017-08-01T15:59:00.000-05:002017-08-01T18:43:40.026-05:00Review of Dallas Fire & Rescue: Red Hot Reunion<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHccW3-UoW20HeWzD1uqJWxj0wpdpVY38Pzkz_4sOrILfuWyWzcuM2ZcUAAhobR1TnTgwUtxZb2qWnQ9ZLqIvR2M6_QVni3h3ikQ5SZxgHC5rzro6ohFta99I4MfuLGmEgc1NGH0Vneg/s1600/uggg+class+reunion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="384" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHccW3-UoW20HeWzD1uqJWxj0wpdpVY38Pzkz_4sOrILfuWyWzcuM2ZcUAAhobR1TnTgwUtxZb2qWnQ9ZLqIvR2M6_QVni3h3ikQ5SZxgHC5rzro6ohFta99I4MfuLGmEgc1NGH0Vneg/s320/uggg+class+reunion.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif;">Last month I read a short fun novella by Beth Hale. It was well worth the couple hours I spent reading it and put me in a good mood. So I wanted to share my review on here and a link if you would be interested in reading it also.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioK16sQ3gFjJboEIpO2pQcuPuiVyqjIbUWXwcjJMyRP_1i9A7NuiQ8P3GhZ3QYtX5Dnr9DQCWOQN-N7d3syhBFcFRfpJEJr4F8lF2i8J7Xfbkkc3eEM593gO9koBS6XUL1iVWO0l0ernY/s1600/20616056_2011991622357252_1528361302_o+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1106" data-original-width="714" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioK16sQ3gFjJboEIpO2pQcuPuiVyqjIbUWXwcjJMyRP_1i9A7NuiQ8P3GhZ3QYtX5Dnr9DQCWOQN-N7d3syhBFcFRfpJEJr4F8lF2i8J7Xfbkkc3eEM593gO9koBS6XUL1iVWO0l0ernY/s400/20616056_2011991622357252_1528361302_o+%25281%2529.jpg" width="256" /></a><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif;">https://www.amazon.com/Dallas-Fire-Rescue-Reunion-Novella-ebook/dp/B0742NFL5X</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif;">Below is the review I left on Amazon and Goodreads, so you can see if it is something you would be interested in or not:</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Beth
Hale has done it again!</span></i><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
She has created an awesome romantic story with steam, passion, and a
story line that I found quite fun. Who
hasn’t been willing to do almost anything to avoid a hurtful past? --Especially when you are talking a class
reunion when high school was emotionally painful… Would you go to your 10<sup>th</sup> reunion? </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLIf8ZrcJt3AHcjWb4ZkJfIs-42BFi4OH9fKx2uEC2i_VJl_c7UmUOTYC67Uo2GKKIiW0IZDISWKHVTReMAayU5pXaJ8Xp7yk9I2eSoXvFV_U1DbZ_o8bx5l8bN2odljdQx26tAw-4aqQ/s1600/tenth+class+reunion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="800" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLIf8ZrcJt3AHcjWb4ZkJfIs-42BFi4OH9fKx2uEC2i_VJl_c7UmUOTYC67Uo2GKKIiW0IZDISWKHVTReMAayU5pXaJ8Xp7yk9I2eSoXvFV_U1DbZ_o8bx5l8bN2odljdQx26tAw-4aqQ/s400/tenth+class+reunion.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">…Well maybe with a gorgeous fireman who was
also a student at the same high school--
Maaaybbeee? Okay that makes it a
little more plausible… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That is just what Hope
Mathison does with Flynn Eaves. One
hitch, she pays for him to be her date via the hot fireman auction. How is this
going to work? He agrees and asks a favor
of her… To come to a wedding as his date.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This is the start of a
beautiful relationship. If only it wasn’t
based on agreement instead of attraction.
Then again, is it? What will
Flynn think when he finds out all Hope’s insecurities? Will he be willing to stick around?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Yh-hXN66sOJh4h8GdNlPuW6E2uuKVnD9gSyPb4wQDdI4QHf1ypKj7_3AYF-VqKHg8rSiAFSvxepY4kizRdWVg4EawL3c2VigjiGxdKKdzGt6ZlTV4HhH2zXdFePisolsRt2VviLyQd8/s1600/class+reunion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Yh-hXN66sOJh4h8GdNlPuW6E2uuKVnD9gSyPb4wQDdI4QHf1ypKj7_3AYF-VqKHg8rSiAFSvxepY4kizRdWVg4EawL3c2VigjiGxdKKdzGt6ZlTV4HhH2zXdFePisolsRt2VviLyQd8/s320/class+reunion.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dallas Fire & Rescue: Red Hot Reunion by Beth
Hale was a short (as in novella) easy read that had me laughing, and in a couple
places really feeling Hope’s pain from the bullies of her high school years. It sizzled in another few places. Flynn was an easy going fun character, and
Hope’s best friend, Marion made the perfect side kick. The story was well thought out. I loved the
ending and the reunion. It’s nice when
there is a little bit of comeuppance too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you like romance,
this is a great quick read. I sure
enjoyed it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-21269282609144648052017-06-01T14:48:00.001-05:002017-06-01T14:48:57.597-05:00New Phone. Trying out the ability to post from my phone<p dir="ltr">This is a test. For the first time I am blogging from my phone. This may work but just trying it out. </p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-70132761707116644632017-05-25T17:25:00.004-05:002017-05-25T17:25:47.499-05:00New Resolution-- I Am Done!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisT_jQxsAeXL_tE0teZkwppf80fRli3EZxyJwzOzBT4CBW7tdPpxNqtF0eFz2xLUhMT4nOynO6UTecz5v88eD5wBvHe-GuMkEQZWmtRH8FBTcxuggRlB6W-QA4tumrvOS4f70NR_sM3I8/s1600/high-res.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisT_jQxsAeXL_tE0teZkwppf80fRli3EZxyJwzOzBT4CBW7tdPpxNqtF0eFz2xLUhMT4nOynO6UTecz5v88eD5wBvHe-GuMkEQZWmtRH8FBTcxuggRlB6W-QA4tumrvOS4f70NR_sM3I8/s320/high-res.png" width="320" /></a>This logo comes from the theme of my first book <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Key to Her Heart</i>. That theme came from my life. It is a motto that I decided on as an older teen so that I could live with the things that I hid away from everyone in my life as a child.<br />
Writing was the only way I had to express my hurts so that I could survive, and because I was afraid anyone would guess I was talking about myself I fictionalized everything I wrote.<br />
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Do not get me wrong. I<i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>love writing fiction. It gives me so much release from everyday life. I cannot even begin to put it into words! But I found something when I began blogging. Sometimes blogging was even more of a release. Except the guilt of actually expressing myself to people was crippling!<br />
<br />
For the last year I have barely posted.This is mainly because of a set of posts that I published last spring, and the fall out from those. People definitely have their opinions! But you know what? This blog is an outlet for me and sometimes the only way I know how to talk out what is going on inside. I am not looking for drama. I am not even looking for an opinion most times. Talking to a counselor just doesn't do it, and an hour does not begin to cover the time needed to get it out. Besides, having to explain defeats the purpose. But knowing somebody is hearing me does help. So talking to my girls... That is emotionally expensive to them. Talking to my mom, well that sometimes brings her tears and she needs to chose when she wants to talk about it. I am all ears when she does. But knowing I have a place that ears do hear... It helps. I do not know why it does, but it does. Six times last year I really regretted posting because I caused a stir among people, and immediately I felt guilty. You see that is something I learned as a child.<br />
<br />
I was told by my family... My mother's aunt and uncles... Do not cause commotion. Do not speak up because it is going to hurt somebody. Do not be dramatic. If you speak up for your needs, you just want attention. It is not okay to talk about it. Suck it up. Get over it. Whatever you do don't talk about it! Sweep it under the rug and pretend it is okay even if you are dying inside.<br />
<br />
Well you know what? I am done! Three weeks ago I blew up at my son. Don't get me wrong, he deserved it, but it was not all his fault. The fault lye mostly with all the stuff I had learned to shove down and keep quiet about. So I am done.<br />
<br />
I am done being quiet. I am done censoring myself, even and especially here. I am done apologizing for what happened to me as a child or an adult. I am done putting on a pretty little smile while I wilt inside. I am done not being good enough. I am done listening to the voices from the former generation going off in my head telling me once more how dramatic I am being. -Or the all time favorite! "Cathy, you always make such mountains out of mole hills!" I am done. <br />
<br />
There is nothing wrong with the emotions I have and talking about what happened to put them there. Yes my experiences are different than most, but I did not chose that, and I am not afraid to live with it. No I don't need more attention. I just need a place to vent or rant or think or sometimes cry-- Especially when I think of my grandma... I need a place to make my own safety, and speak freely. I need a place to be me, worts and all. I don't need people "worrying about my sanity". News flash I am crazy-- Bat shit crazy. But you know what? Look around... The world is even crazier than I am. It is not anyone's job to worry about it. I can worry about myself, and I can figure out what to do for myself.<br />
<br />
I will tell you one thing that helps me is writing on here, and I am done worrying about what anyone thinks. Yes this is a blog and anyone can see it. Who really cares? If someone doesn't like it they don't ever have to read it again. But you know what else? This blog does help me. It gives me a place that I do not know in the rest of my life and so here is my new resolution: I am going to post, probably quite often. But you might not like it. If you do not, leave it. It is okay. If you do, great. You are welcome to read my stuff... Sometimes it will be crap, and other times it might just turn a light bulb on. I promise only one thing... It will be me, just me. -Not what ever anyone expects. Just what is going on in inside, or a book review from a book I enjoyed, or a clip from my latest manuscript, or an idea I am toying with, or a memory I deal with. I might be calm or I might be angry or depressed or confused. But you will read me. From now on. That is all I can promise, but in this world of making 'good' impressions it is a start. I am not trying to get people to feel comfortable or trying to impress anyone. I am just trying to survive, and sometimes by being me give some one a smile or a nod. I am a mess. I am the first to admit that, but that is okay. It's taken me 47 years to figure that out, but at least that is one lesson I have learned. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRS94W4dAm3t5Ae3iBbuFTW_5TDHCemitTsPjbRo5FtWLlIcO-lRXXlyHETJD7lbTrzc9DmMKsWpi1bVhsT-8ATUCXF1YnL0q7CPR5F0vN9XetcFrbcxH4pxppzVec-YC40gkAo_GlicE/s1600/0058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRS94W4dAm3t5Ae3iBbuFTW_5TDHCemitTsPjbRo5FtWLlIcO-lRXXlyHETJD7lbTrzc9DmMKsWpi1bVhsT-8ATUCXF1YnL0q7CPR5F0vN9XetcFrbcxH4pxppzVec-YC40gkAo_GlicE/s200/0058.jpg" width="131" /></a><br />
Just Cat sharing my thoughts with whoever wants to hear. Hope you understand, but even if you don't I refuse to be quiet anymore. Thanks for listening. You are welcome to comment if you would like, but don't need people telling me what to do. Done that too much to myself.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-50098413694059812572017-03-13T03:01:00.000-05:002017-03-13T03:01:13.817-05:00Long over due update on The Key to Her Heart & Patrick's Rose<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1DpQlmoMgO3_1UnApbWF5rMsD-As49RGoqTRwyjFtWb5loKoOoGtTPJLr720H5vsI_zI5LUNse9WGJHjr3i5bFUN4sWIhhyphenhyphenNgnMfSNV-0PvyGTvUthXwRhyphenhyphendIylEQRMlanVlqxp3puI/s1600/CatHerzog-300dpi-3125x4167+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1DpQlmoMgO3_1UnApbWF5rMsD-As49RGoqTRwyjFtWb5loKoOoGtTPJLr720H5vsI_zI5LUNse9WGJHjr3i5bFUN4sWIhhyphenhyphenNgnMfSNV-0PvyGTvUthXwRhyphenhyphendIylEQRMlanVlqxp3puI/s320/CatHerzog-300dpi-3125x4167+%25283%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
I love this cover! To me it is absolutely the perfect cover for <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Key to Her Heart </i>but it is not the one on the paperback. I love the old cover too, my second oldest daughter was the artist for that one, but it does not do what I wanted it to do. Last year I replaced the cover on The Key's Kindle format, but because of the events going on in my life I did not replace the cover on the paperback. <br />
<br />
Soooo at the beginning of the year, I decided I had to get that done! If I am going to do something, it needs to be done right! I spent part of January and half of February reediting <b style="font-style: italic;">The Key to Her Heart. </b>It really was in pretty good form. There were only a few things needing some fixing. During that time, I spoke to some small publishers and tried to decide how I wanted to go with republishing and talked with several people on how to go about marketing. I also redid my website and began using Instagram, and reading books from some of my favorite experts and over all redid my presentation of me. It was kind of tedious and kind of fun. Had new photos taken. I didn't think that would be fun, but it really was. As I got all the pieces of my platform in place, and The Key ready, it was time to republish...<br />
<br />
I worked on formatting to be sure it was right. The next three weeks I worked on uploading it to <b><i>CreateSpace</i></b>. Every problem you could imagine came up! I even had to change what I was using for word processing! But finally... Just yesterday morning... got everything in and I ordered my proof copies! I am over the moon!<br />
Also I need to give a huge shout out for <i><b>Self Pub Book Covers</b></i> for the front cover, and most recently the spine and back cover. Just wait until I post the pictures! They did such a magnificent job on the cover! It is beyond my wildest dreams! So I can't wait to show you the results and see what you think. I will be going to my first vendor fair on March 18th here in the Quad Cities.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYwDZI02c3LxfmuiEHHdcDF62jwPVAjsUxwPr9Y03BgVPwFE43p1BAjMGw6RK8OOPeyejvBoD8HjXGW3frDOkgkgYgTO8LkGj4RxYO8z2k_tiUpgCOih4hWKIbpfuElxlcIIVABkBSHg/s1600/CatHerzog-300dpi-3125x4167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYwDZI02c3LxfmuiEHHdcDF62jwPVAjsUxwPr9Y03BgVPwFE43p1BAjMGw6RK8OOPeyejvBoD8HjXGW3frDOkgkgYgTO8LkGj4RxYO8z2k_tiUpgCOih4hWKIbpfuElxlcIIVABkBSHg/s320/CatHerzog-300dpi-3125x4167.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Alrighty! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now for news on <b><i>Patrick's Rose</i></b>... My new word processing program should actually make editing a little more seamless, and as I get closer to publication maybe there won't be the problems that I had with republishing <b><i>The Key to Her Heart</i></b>. Planning on releasing <i><b>Patrick's Rose</b></i> in August. I've been working on formatting and editing almost as tirelessly as I worked on republishing and my writing platform. Below I am going to add a sneak peek to whet your appetite, but first I should tell you a little about Patrick's Rose...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span data-offset-key="e776f-0-0" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box;">Anna is expecting. Even though things are not always perfect she and Patrick have each other and hope for a much better tomorrow. </span><span style="background-color: white;">After beginning a new life in Santa Barbara, Anna finds a ministry that pricks her heart and causes her to pour out love for a group of women on a road not so different than her own. She realizes she can help them more than anyone would ask or expect... </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">That help comes at a price. </span><span data-offset-key="900hd-0-0" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">As the impossible truly becomes possible, and both Anna and Patrick look to a brighter future there is darkness lurking; watching for a time to pounce. All is not as beautiful as it would seem... </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Only Sherry Hansen realizes how much danger Anna still is in. Her premonitions and visions shake her soul as her worries cause her to kneel in prayer, hoping the darkening horizon she sees can be overcome. But as the future becomes reality is there anything she can do to help her pseudo daughter?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQhA81ljZHRnbxWHYHU4BeP4UrcgApt3oh3FimZof-wbYWN91ysz2rXJHrMmOZ9QePdRyHU0l0ND8bx9E_HBwsth9_j9oFPXoAFE51tSrBKmHuPnvS1xFjtUFjluVn2gQK1vT-jqRA83w/s1600/Catalina+Island+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQhA81ljZHRnbxWHYHU4BeP4UrcgApt3oh3FimZof-wbYWN91ysz2rXJHrMmOZ9QePdRyHU0l0ND8bx9E_HBwsth9_j9oFPXoAFE51tSrBKmHuPnvS1xFjtUFjluVn2gQK1vT-jqRA83w/s200/Catalina+Island+beach.jpg" width="200" /></a>The scene I am going to share is set on Catalina Island; a small island right off the California coast. By ferry boat it is about an hour to an hour and half away from Newport Beach or Long Island. It is a little further from San Diego. It is a very Caribbeanish place with little shops, tours and a very festive feel to it. When I was a kid my mom and family would go kid free to spend the day on Catalina. I didn't get to go there until I graduated from high school then I spent the weekend on the island and explored to my heart content. As I was rewriting Patrick's Rose, I thought there couldn't be any place cooler for a photo shoot than Catalina Island. It sets up a really neat scene. Below is the sneak peek. Read it to see what you think. This is from chapter 12 after Anna has taken over World Stage Clothing. (The pictures I added to show some of the scenery I was writing, but they won't be in the book.)<br />
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<br />
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Five
different photographers captured second long scenes of women sporting the
summer clothing line on a Caribbean looking destination. Azure skies framed the day as balmy breezes
tantalized the island palms. The sun
overhead would have anyone believing it was a late, May, day in the
Tropics. Oh, but it was a beautiful
December afternoon on a small island off the Southern California coast. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qqtfv0DGPjmRIrKcLLN63IvRqKeLv90AxSqTpMLgRz88Ng8M3o0EAHoK0D3YTqq9QRgl13rS8plD9rFkkHQ2pdsjDcNbgzusCUibSQktlEu3gwdQRteJUI3kURe6DOSU3RUMRafvkhE/s1600/Catalina+Island+shops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qqtfv0DGPjmRIrKcLLN63IvRqKeLv90AxSqTpMLgRz88Ng8M3o0EAHoK0D3YTqq9QRgl13rS8plD9rFkkHQ2pdsjDcNbgzusCUibSQktlEu3gwdQRteJUI3kURe6DOSU3RUMRafvkhE/s320/Catalina+Island+shops.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">The
little shops were open as shopkeepers enjoyed the crowd the models and crew
from World Stage had become. Anna clapped her hands together seeing her vision
coming together in front of her. The day
was vibrant. She strolled through the
streets toward the dock. Excitement
filled her. Stylish models, cameras
snapping, smiling faces; it was exactly what she had been going for when she
talked Wendy into this photo shoot. This
would be their best season yet! Wow! Just wait until Cheryl saw the proofs! Today she was able to release the fear and
worry that had been plaguing her and just enjoy this moment when all she had in
her heart for the summer line came to reality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj84LcgEFDzKIVa5b-pChJqbQoKTzV5Jt3kSCxF9iP4JNwP-XfrHBJw87iBJTgIdfCQpn-nm1CY4AQPpPQzPb63jmCFsHTI3QPr9VWB6XNNkVeqwLHRVmOJU9eRSE2aXmspWh6ZN5FKuLk/s1600/Catalina+Island+dock+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj84LcgEFDzKIVa5b-pChJqbQoKTzV5Jt3kSCxF9iP4JNwP-XfrHBJw87iBJTgIdfCQpn-nm1CY4AQPpPQzPb63jmCFsHTI3QPr9VWB6XNNkVeqwLHRVmOJU9eRSE2aXmspWh6ZN5FKuLk/s200/Catalina+Island+dock+2.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">A
chuckle bubbled from her lips as her soul leaped. The boat she had chartered to take her back
to the mainland pulled up as she arrived at the water's edge. Claudia stepped onto the dock from the boat,
waiting for her. She and Wendy would
finish up and fly back with the rest of the crew, but Anna wanted to enjoy the
ocean air.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Has it gone
well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">“Yup!” She answered with an optimistic </span><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">indigence</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Laura Aragon is
on the boat.” Claudia warned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“She is asking a
lot of questions.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Even Laura
can't ruin this day.” The words joyfully
bubbled out of her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNSBhhkb3wR5ewBHTcep1xXqQzDL1Ae6ZvqiliE2Zo4DTZbOEw0VopD87_euaYv7nCoqfF-QdVf3qx5v5gYGChlWm6aPNhDgXYgh7WcK_Y5tY2mR3waWtAuLCTiQUDQE6Y55d83IvMps/s1600/Catalina+Island+dock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNSBhhkb3wR5ewBHTcep1xXqQzDL1Ae6ZvqiliE2Zo4DTZbOEw0VopD87_euaYv7nCoqfF-QdVf3qx5v5gYGChlWm6aPNhDgXYgh7WcK_Y5tY2mR3waWtAuLCTiQUDQE6Y55d83IvMps/s200/Catalina+Island+dock.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Everything has
gone as close to perfect as it gets!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">One of the
photographers slipped in an eight track into the portable player. The tropical rhythm, gentle, fragrant
breezes, and gaiety of their group mixed together in a moment that Anna knew
would forever live on as her definition of what life should be like. She grabbed Claudia's hand and twirled both
of them around as she gasped in laughter.
Cameras snapped and Anna stepped onto her ride back to the
mainland. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 35.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">As
the boat pulled out of the harbor, Anna slipped on her sweater. The ocean
breeze rippled through her wavy cinnamon tresses. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes,
soaking in the peace she had been blessed with.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“A good day I
take it?” Detective Aragon perched next
to her. Anna nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“And you're not
spoiling it for me either.” A smile
curled her lips as she sighed slightly.
Now she was on her way home. She
had no more commitments. The next five
days belonged to her church and her husband.
She crinkled up her nose with the thought. Even the detective could not make this day
sour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“It's been an
exceptional day.” Anna wistfully
answered still leaning against the rail basking in the peace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“You know this
is a dangerous game you are playing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Anna gave a
brief glance to the frowning woman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“I wasn't aware
I was playing any game.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“You damn well
know you are and gambling at that!”
Surveying her, Anna would have laughed, but with the detective's mood,
it probably wouldn't have gone well.
Laura could get over herself. She
let the smile on her lips reign. It was
rare that she got to enjoy a full day without worry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“The only game I
am playing is the game of life today. I
got to enjoy a hard-born idea come to fruition.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Is that what it
was?” The answer seemed to frustrate the
other woman even more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“I earned
today. In a little less than three
months I've turned World Stage around, changing people's opinions of us for the
better, reclaiming sales, and creating styles and choices that are changing the
market and world at large. Do you have a
problem with that, Ms. Aragon?” Anna
turned her full attention on the detective, her blue eyes bright and
unconquerable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Not at
all. It must feel good.” The detective faced Anna eye to eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“The question
is, what are you willing to expose yourself to?” Each word fell at Anna's feet, darkening all
the good she felt this day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“And how long do
you think you can keep it up?” Raising
her chin up slightly, Anna didn't dare show the bitter pill the woman caused
her to swallow. Days like this left her
with a little melancholy if she thought about it too much. The detective didn't have to remind her
things could slide into a mire at any moment, but times of good gave her hope
and strength to fight for a better life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesv9tntVZWTyokLto9JxKGW8OkxkVGX1w1gte_oi0j3gtpdWQ2oah2OJaAwIXTEp7nVPaeV140O1CUwDMLK0UZhg5RJL5zd5yQV6aNVhuCvg7bJpNFF3WwJX5oHmxD2Qc7bSAgj-LcPM/s1600/Catalina+Island+ferry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesv9tntVZWTyokLto9JxKGW8OkxkVGX1w1gte_oi0j3gtpdWQ2oah2OJaAwIXTEp7nVPaeV140O1CUwDMLK0UZhg5RJL5zd5yQV6aNVhuCvg7bJpNFF3WwJX5oHmxD2Qc7bSAgj-LcPM/s200/Catalina+Island+ferry.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“After all what
are you-- four, five months along?” As
Laura spoke those words, everything stopped.
What did she just say? She sat
down quickly, and barely held onto the beauty she found today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Four, five
months along with what?” Playing dense
was the best alternative she had right that moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Please, Miss
Paige, do you think I cannot see? And if
I can see it, so can others. So again, I
ask you-- What kind of game are you playing?”
Anna stood up, walked back to the railing taking a moment before hitting
the detective head on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“You know,
Detective Aragon, there are other reasons for weight gain in women beside pregnancy.
It is not a safe bet to assume...”
Usually verbal sparring was invigorating. This was not.
The thought of escaping inside crossed her mind, but that would be a
sign of weakness that she could not afford.
Pulling the sweater closer, she stood at the railing even though she
felt chilled by the breeze. The woman's
question came back to slap her in the face as it echoed in her head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">She wasn't sure
how long it took before the detective came to stand beside her. Anna ignored her, thinking over her
options. She could shoot straight with
her. That probably wasn't the safest
choice. Lying was a possibility. Deception went against who she was though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“For the record,
we are on the same team, fighting the same enemy.” The detective whispered finally. It was meant as a reprieve she was sure, but
it was no better than the jousting a moment earlier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Just because we
are fighting the same enemy doesn't mean we are on the same team.” Anna spoke as she stared blindly out at the
Pacific waters, but no longer seeing the beauty she found in this day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“My agenda is
quite different than yours. I wish I had
never walked into your office...” She
spat the words at her letting her anger be felt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Unfortunately
for both of us, you are in the middle of everything I have been assigned, but I
realize you do not know who I am or what I am doing.” Frustration laced the detective’s words
together. Anna slowly turned and faced
the woman deciding how to handle this conflict.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“I don't want to
know.” Honesty and bluntness was always
her best policy. She would stick with
what she knew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“You haven't
done anything to help me or Cheryl and her brother. So, I am done. I want nothing more to do with you. If you are going to pursue whatever it is
you're after, then count me out. If you
ever get Wolffe and are stuck in court, then give me a jingle. I'll testify against him. Baring that... Stay out of my life.” The detective stood there rigid as if a rod
had been shoved up her spine. Anna
didn't care. She had had enough. No more.
Jesse had done more to protect her than this woman and she was done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“I will stay out
of your view Miss Paige, but I have a job to do.” The detective turned to leave the bow. There
was one more thing...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“For the record,
I'm six months pregnant and I've kept the public and in particular Wolffe from
finding that out for this long...” The
detective was like a statue for a second.
Anna smiled slightly, feeling the triumph of at least winning one
battle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">“You don't know
who I am either. Don't assume you do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Laura Aragon's
orifice stood slightly open for a second then she snapped it shut before she
would say something she would regret.
Perhaps it was better this way.
She could stay out of her sight.
It would be better protection anyway.
Now she had even more reason to make sure Anna Paige was protected. She shook her head slightly as she walked
away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Damn! She was a fire breed! The thought made her smile. Anna didn't realize she knew a hell of a lot
more about her now than she had six weeks ago.
Now though she also knew what she had been hiding then. The past crossed her mind. She remembered her life not so long ago. There were choices she made and secrets she
hid. It was amazing how much could
change in sixteen years.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span>
This is the update... Hope I whet your appetite a little, but more than anything, hope this gave you the info on what I am doing.<br />
Also visit my website: https://writingcattales.com/ <br />
There are still some kinks I am working out, but pretty proud that I built it myself... Anyway, this is Cat out. Have an awesome day!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-48840765997954374232017-03-01T18:57:00.000-06:002017-03-01T18:57:06.481-06:00Review of 'To Tame the Wind'<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b></b></i></div>
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<i><b><i><b><br /></b></i></b></i></div>
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<i><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3dDMzYdqXL-EjVhgcKQtCvS3bc7PBrr1VJptTI4VjQHWqFw6qEYorQHTrQkNAc2jEOQQNJ3CPZcOVfWFfyiMWLi3GDUgaecVepipd-E6Ayw24tGyzQMVh1GGe0JiN4kcMQLyn4GWJ2Eo/s1600/revolutionary+war+flags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3dDMzYdqXL-EjVhgcKQtCvS3bc7PBrr1VJptTI4VjQHWqFw6qEYorQHTrQkNAc2jEOQQNJ3CPZcOVfWFfyiMWLi3GDUgaecVepipd-E6Ayw24tGyzQMVh1GGe0JiN4kcMQLyn4GWJ2Eo/s320/revolutionary+war+flags.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></i></div>
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<i><b><i><b><br /></b></i></b></i></div>
<i><b>To Tame the Wind</b></i>
is set on the ports of the English Channel, Paris, and London during
the end of the Revolutionary (or American) war in the late 1700s. It
is the story of a man, Simon Powell, trying to get his ship and crew
back by abducting a pirate's daughter, Claire Donet. It is a story
of honor and pirate ship battles, but not for high treasure; instead
for the love of people. For Simon, he is fighting for his crew. For
Jean Donet it is for his daughter and the release of American war
prisoners. It is also a story of spies, and desperately wanting
peace after a long expensive war. Finally it is about love and
loyalty between two waring factions, and learning friendship is
actually possible.<br />
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</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcwQIoJNCA-RtVsyyb96lynmPWZhI1Rh_668hXxQ6RW1GntFceaeq19pyN5zk4GycB3uSoIaMKcXg2u59Le6zC96-8FbmgL3D7A1pIjz8chbalYKQ4OlPucAYhC7o8VDdHJNWtiUMeHI/s1600/revolutionary+war+ships.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcwQIoJNCA-RtVsyyb96lynmPWZhI1Rh_668hXxQ6RW1GntFceaeq19pyN5zk4GycB3uSoIaMKcXg2u59Le6zC96-8FbmgL3D7A1pIjz8chbalYKQ4OlPucAYhC7o8VDdHJNWtiUMeHI/s320/revolutionary+war+ships.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Regan Walker wrote the best
romance novel I have read in recent years. Besides not finding one
tiny error, she wrote a fascinating, engaging, historically accurate
romance. Claire was feisty and yet kind and gentle. Simon was
honorable. The engagement between British, French, and Americans
tweaked my history soul in my favorite era. Seeing the Revolutionary
war from the perspective of the European side with the dynamics
ribboning through out the story kept my curiosity going. I loved
seeing real historical figures interacting with the characters in the
story. The passionate play between Claire and Simon was more than
just physical it was innate to their being. Excellent descriptions
of ports, smells, sights, sounds, motion on the ships, the feel of
the wind while sailing, and the song the sailors sung made me feel
like I was right there watching everything happening in each scene.
I could hear the accent in the dialogue of every character. That was
not just one inflection, there were Irish, French, English (both
normal and aristocracy), and American characters, each who had
various accents and word usage. The writing was exceptional!
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigg2AaEsaYz6efDY-DC8XDwayOlf_30fl8HsNP35k2t6_ib6MdSQ7adnM15bN2B862bd8nNQrfa5Dngwy0wxL0Gd0PxDx3bKWqWcrxjC7ly5C2NFSXqLMa8tsRHhloUHwQfQE0le8aAGw/s1600/revolutionary+war+sea+battle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigg2AaEsaYz6efDY-DC8XDwayOlf_30fl8HsNP35k2t6_ib6MdSQ7adnM15bN2B862bd8nNQrfa5Dngwy0wxL0Gd0PxDx3bKWqWcrxjC7ly5C2NFSXqLMa8tsRHhloUHwQfQE0le8aAGw/s320/revolutionary+war+sea+battle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As much as I love a good
historical romance I rarely read them because there are so many
errors in their use of the time frame. That was not the case in this
novel. The author used the historical influence for all the
situations that came up as the time period would dictate. I was
amazed. This story felt so real! And because of that I really
enjoyed reading it. All of this is also why I rated it with 5 stars.
<i><b>To Tame the Wind </b></i> deserves it!</div>
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If you are interested in reading this novel-- here is the link to it on Amazon where I purchased it:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhfSDmLNX9W7uoFIpcJhUeHPXpw8gpCgmzjnoFkHxk9rHdP9Tt3nyTggp4rn7kXhrkARJuKaPpoyy1A-Rcg6M9QYS98DRr0PTKNxA0HKE42kk7FLKJxSEt4DtcQ_A9vXt3qNxVVm7314/s1600/to+tame+the+wind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhfSDmLNX9W7uoFIpcJhUeHPXpw8gpCgmzjnoFkHxk9rHdP9Tt3nyTggp4rn7kXhrkARJuKaPpoyy1A-Rcg6M9QYS98DRr0PTKNxA0HKE42kk7FLKJxSEt4DtcQ_A9vXt3qNxVVm7314/s320/to+tame+the+wind.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
https://www.amazon.com/Tame-Wind-Agents-Crown-Book-ebook/dp/B00VO4DZYE</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-16648748240395147952017-02-21T00:44:00.000-06:002017-02-21T00:44:24.975-06:00Things I like<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
There are a number of things that are my favorites. This is just a silly little assignment I gave myself. But since I know a lot of writers I decided to share my list and see how many I have in common with them... Or maybe those of you out there that are just reading this blog for the fun of it. How many do you have in common with me?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
So here is a list of my favorites:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeH77rntu4zWglNM8MKeTfdpVts1roZmmQegB_yqtBhGh8WDDB3mBF7EkTQaKGmiU_EA-vddrv2sWXF5z5_ldkJvsBJOf7Im8Xu-x4-pITuknQdv6wJfAILUoIkI3GsCThkacWZwXbl5Y/s1600/mother+mary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeH77rntu4zWglNM8MKeTfdpVts1roZmmQegB_yqtBhGh8WDDB3mBF7EkTQaKGmiU_EA-vddrv2sWXF5z5_ldkJvsBJOf7Im8Xu-x4-pITuknQdv6wJfAILUoIkI3GsCThkacWZwXbl5Y/s200/mother+mary.jpg" width="200" /></a>1. At the top of my list is God and everything about heaven. It is not just that I am a church goer, but heaven and the spiritual world totally fascinates me. Scripture is real to me. Prayer is life. The saints, as I get to know them, become close personal friends.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
2. My family. Man I love hanging out with my kids! My husband is my best friend. My siblings and I are very close even though we don't spend as much time together as I would like. My mom and I talk on the phone every few days... You get the point.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9O-UK_f136sOLf9ry7rRxkhA4KPqvl4e13VxWm3UDuQyf6MCw5wnbJGEqUu-uy-EW8OAwl7th4wo-pY0pDJES_oYdHFSuOM4SQGfPyoBAEQdoKEuN0P2FIgtkIrJncBVgsQxCevg32GI/s1600/writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9O-UK_f136sOLf9ry7rRxkhA4KPqvl4e13VxWm3UDuQyf6MCw5wnbJGEqUu-uy-EW8OAwl7th4wo-pY0pDJES_oYdHFSuOM4SQGfPyoBAEQdoKEuN0P2FIgtkIrJncBVgsQxCevg32GI/s320/writing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
3. I love writing! Love it! Everything I experience gets written someplace at sometime. Sometimes it is as a blog post. Sometimes in a personal journal. Sometimes in a story fictionalized so no one realizes it is something that happened to me. But one way or another it gets written.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Y0eJJ0c5tRP6YI-y7Q989LB3cqSn8PI9H45oSD06xLkzD_CUwaposvx5FAQO05jl_atMeOYg2XjXffwqpMcClURuDNS2GtVOGYgUszBiMkqRIuMGT5XOq6AngbMSsBA2zHf-mvHjexo/s1600/love+of+reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="97" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Y0eJJ0c5tRP6YI-y7Q989LB3cqSn8PI9H45oSD06xLkzD_CUwaposvx5FAQO05jl_atMeOYg2XjXffwqpMcClURuDNS2GtVOGYgUszBiMkqRIuMGT5XOq6AngbMSsBA2zHf-mvHjexo/s200/love+of+reading.jpg" width="200" /></a>4. I love reading and doing reviews. They are fun. It is nice to read a great book then tell people why you loved it. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
5. I really super enjoy my friends and great conversation, So many times I sit down with one of my adult daughters or a few of my close friends and we get in a conversation about an idea of theirs or mine, and it sparks and we can be talking for hours about it. I think that is the coolest thing around.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMYfMsxsUQvT0A78lkFTV2cw3g3KERqEe5dquJQqd51_RzTGMOKG_JrlLcIKwjDzOlQfRdrleNgHVoXwu2fru5W5hqavXLo2rxnNr_QQVMOqR-LBzQE5JsJztrpWn_XiJ-nw0L6Wi96M/s1600/healthy+image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMYfMsxsUQvT0A78lkFTV2cw3g3KERqEe5dquJQqd51_RzTGMOKG_JrlLcIKwjDzOlQfRdrleNgHVoXwu2fru5W5hqavXLo2rxnNr_QQVMOqR-LBzQE5JsJztrpWn_XiJ-nw0L6Wi96M/s200/healthy+image.jpg" width="200" /></a>6, Natural health ideas and discoveries are another thing that makes my world work. Whether it be natural birth, or eating healthy, or NET, or talking about a new alternative health center that has opened up, or finding out about a new herb that helps your brain function at its best. These are just the topics that have sparked me this week.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
7. I love being positive and seeing the world as good. In the same category I love seeing the best in people, I am learning (albeit slowly sometimes) to keep my positivism even when people disappoint me or when my world comes crashing down around me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHESXs5iN7vk-f7yQuDHc9fWUHR6WlkPuj9EqBnntEZn52Pc1dADotrBnNKcWlr239kab5ROEAwdPraQ9yYXi7M5otuALok8kCTgmWprfKx487p5JrWdmyo_QHxhvnTTvqaVAM3GyXC4/s1600/love+of+kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHESXs5iN7vk-f7yQuDHc9fWUHR6WlkPuj9EqBnntEZn52Pc1dADotrBnNKcWlr239kab5ROEAwdPraQ9yYXi7M5otuALok8kCTgmWprfKx487p5JrWdmyo_QHxhvnTTvqaVAM3GyXC4/s400/love+of+kids.jpg" width="400" /></a>8. I love kids. Everyone's kids. Just because they are kids! I think children are the best part of this world and I love on them if they are close to me. If they are at a park or store I will smile at them. It's just love. I think kids should get all our love so they are filled up with goodness. I think we should slow down and let kids be kids instead of trying to make them mini adults. They will be adults before we know it and the thing that will make them the best adults they can be is all the love they received as kids.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
9. Peace... I savor peace. Not like no noise... Because let's face it my house is boisterous and always has been. It probably always will be, but I love laughter, finding joy at the weirdest times. It is doing things well and avoiding extra drama. I love the moments the family is watching a movie and we find something totally corny we all laugh at together. Christmas morning and Christmas Eve are in this spot. The chanting scriptures and prayers in church is the most peaceful thing around. The few quiet moments as I get to hug my son and he is not embarrassed his mother is hugging him are sheer joy to me. Doing a reading lesson with my five year old, and she reads the word by herself are bliss. You get what I am talking about when I say peace<br />
.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2Hch11iTSNRQOCWtq1Dfl5CZP7qjsxf5-71jACpXIxvjlITMeL-p4MEDFbTKtb4ueLY9vpD_8FB3BRCbNdT8apYy4I5VVJBSmYdOtqbepxZ2Aq1kwb80LETTCNuWVwMaJm-y1tukpoA/s1600/history+image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2Hch11iTSNRQOCWtq1Dfl5CZP7qjsxf5-71jACpXIxvjlITMeL-p4MEDFbTKtb4ueLY9vpD_8FB3BRCbNdT8apYy4I5VVJBSmYdOtqbepxZ2Aq1kwb80LETTCNuWVwMaJm-y1tukpoA/s400/history+image.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
10. The last one is history. I love my own personal history, family history, national history, biblical history, world history. It is part of what makes each of us who we are. It is the legacy we pass on to our children and their children. Finally it is what we learn from to make a better world-- even if only in our own family.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This is a list of my 10 favorites in order of significance in my life. It is not a complete list, but I only told myself I needed to get to 10. So what are your favs? <i>Curiosity killed the cat... </i> It is a saying that I've heard all my life because I tend to be very inquisitive... But it hasn't been my death yet! So what is important in your life?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This is Cat out...</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-39420576696754001952016-10-11T21:44:00.002-05:002016-10-11T21:47:37.654-05:00Review of Trusting Jack <div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia_nGPa_eKNPilPN5SU4xfnpm7_ZWjdpo5WvayTcAp-L0PKQrWrF4_qh24RJ13Mz2OJLfncYBMfn2nCPgnyt0Fsb0BlD62z5BEv-NZBSx5YVLIuyNWMQMGbNXqsAgURJ1xesi9Pl5Fd98/s1600/woman+letting+go.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia_nGPa_eKNPilPN5SU4xfnpm7_ZWjdpo5WvayTcAp-L0PKQrWrF4_qh24RJ13Mz2OJLfncYBMfn2nCPgnyt0Fsb0BlD62z5BEv-NZBSx5YVLIuyNWMQMGbNXqsAgURJ1xesi9Pl5Fd98/s320/woman+letting+go.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Review of Trusting Jack by Beth Hales</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><i>Trusting Jack</i> is a passionate tale
of healing after betrayal. Emma loved once, or thought she did at
least, and then was not only betrayed but condemned by her own
husband, Ryan. She was left broken. After she hid away from life.
When she decides to take her life back and live as her heart longs
to, she meets Jack. He is as opposite to Ryan as day is to night.
She still questions whether its real. Can he truly like her for who
she is? Is that possible? What if the past is repeating itself?
There is a point when Sarah comes back on the scene that she thinks
it is repeating. What if Ryan's critique of her is what is real?
Just when she thinks she understands-- disaster does strike. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">This was a wonderful romantic tale. It
was right up my alley. There is a little danger in the story and a
lot of Emma second guessing herself, but she is </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">surrounded</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> by good
people now. The battle is not only if she can trust Jack, but what
about Norah and Chris? Her actress boss and her best friend have so
much love for her, but she still has Ryan's voice in her head. In
the story Emma's battle is learning to trust and allowing her heart
to heal and the lies she was told to fall away off her shoulders.
When the past seems to be repeating itself will she hide again? Or
stay and refuse to give up what she loves?</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj1VSmuv7fkN6p0elFex7nS_BY3Df-Q_ZR-bVt0Ngx6Six3mFC0RtQFEgAF30E60fjA8MF20yQbTy9YUL2ePwCjAG6rEF3tMExW1iC2DdodTcF0lUBhLubAthBstINCMNsQNP0n9o7GsQ/s1600/hurt+woman+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj1VSmuv7fkN6p0elFex7nS_BY3Df-Q_ZR-bVt0Ngx6Six3mFC0RtQFEgAF30E60fjA8MF20yQbTy9YUL2ePwCjAG6rEF3tMExW1iC2DdodTcF0lUBhLubAthBstINCMNsQNP0n9o7GsQ/s1600/hurt+woman+1.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">It was not just a category romance, but
dealt with a woman who was scarred by an emotionally abusive husband.
It has to do with her healing as much as finding love, and yet it's
light and fun. There are scenes that made me laugh! Sometimes
Emma's critique of herself made me want to cry. I have been where she
is and had to dig my way out unsure who I could trust or even at
times who I wanted to be. The title is perfect. The story is
perfect. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">This is a book I would recommend to
romance readers that want something that's a little deeper than the
typical category romance. I really loved <i>Trusting Jack</i> and I
am certain many others will too!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">If you would like to read it here is a link where you can look at it for yourself: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ECZV076/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-72250986284763545852016-05-11T16:31:00.002-05:002016-10-11T21:07:05.781-05:00My Story: Pregnancy at 46-- Part 3<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzeDwZk9WoZ0X-KHA6TLhEM5tHjrUmTTzzKWWLuo8UobanwiaM2EoGh4lWCRBKD6IjVgWV3O7MSbunQCfEy5VkWfTtzjBAPmIxGM19X9wkTWLhua0j9A_MqsElFKR0KNc8d1bWbs1g2Po/s1600/IMG_20151223_100156493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzeDwZk9WoZ0X-KHA6TLhEM5tHjrUmTTzzKWWLuo8UobanwiaM2EoGh4lWCRBKD6IjVgWV3O7MSbunQCfEy5VkWfTtzjBAPmIxGM19X9wkTWLhua0j9A_MqsElFKR0KNc8d1bWbs1g2Po/s400/IMG_20151223_100156493.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Couldn't resist this picture. I am holding my grandson<br />
Leo about an hour after he was born.<br />
December 23, 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So I ended with the visit to my naturopath in the last part...</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The words of my naturopath that January day left me stunned. I am still in a stun. As she was dealing with me, she dealt with a boatload of spiritual dynamics that I only half way
remember, but one thing I do clearly remember are the steps she
suggested and I followed. The chaplet she suggested I do daily for at least the next 4 weeks at least (I ended doing it for 6 weeks then switched over
to 2 different novenas). Also I needed to spend time in church
dealing with things I had held on to that needed to be let go of and
cleansed out. Finally I needed holy water to protect the two babies
that were still there from any darkness-- especially the darkness
trying to convince me they weren't there.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stopped to get gas after leaving her office, but instead pulled into a parking lot and cried. In the office we had
talked about what Jo had believed... Joseph is my brother who died
when my biological mother was pregnant with both of us. We were
twins and he passed when my bio mother was about 16 weeks pregnant
with both of us. All my life I've had visions of heaven and my
brother... It doesn't make sense to most people, but it is a fact of
life for me. When we do NET I will go back to emotions or beliefs
that come from my brother. This time we talked about Jo. My brother
is never referred to as Jo, but as Joseph. But we talked about Jo
being afraid of being forgotten. As I cried I had a vision of a
little girl holding hands with my brother and grandmother (I lost my
grandmother when I was 13). These are the two people that really
define my life. I cried because I knew this was the child I had lost.
And suddenly I knew that the 'Jo' who was afraid of being forgotten
was my little daughter. I suddenly had another glimpse of her
praying for the protection that God had put around my womb, and being
there with her two siblings-- fighting for them, and somehow understood
what had been happening for the last several months. In that moment
I knew her name-- Jo-- Josephine Dorothy-- after my grandmother and
brother who seemed to be guiding her actions and helping her know
what to do, and the two people I love so dearly, but no longer can
touch. For a long while I cried. “Oh Jo, I will never never forget
you... Just like I will never forget my brother. You gave your life
to protect them, just like Joseph did so I could live...” It hit
me so hard and for days afterward. Everything I had experienced made
sense. My body kept anything that might harm away. Everything
inside of me was protecting these two little spiritual beings. My
two little miracles that God kept referring to, telling me to
“Believe His miracle.” Right then the thought of not believing
would have seemed more like forgetting Jo than anything. How could I
not believe? I wanted all three of them, but Jo was already beyond
where I could hold her. I would be damned if I let anything
happen to the two that were still there!</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So Meg had researched a
healthy diet for twin pregnancy and had printed a daily check-off
sheet so that I could be sure I was eating right for their growth. I
began on that. I was taking iron here and there, but I was having
extreme exhaustion. So she convinced me to take iron daily. As I
did, I began feeling so much better. Each time there was a problem
we tweaked something, and it was amazing the difference it made along
with daily prayer, and faith that God had this in his hands.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The next Monday I had an
appointment with my chiropractor and again she did a doppler, and
again she got two heartbeats. This time she told me. “That was two
distinct heartbeats in two different locations, and last time the
same thing happened.” She didn't say it until I did...</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Twins?” I asked, and
she nodded quietly. I don't think she wanted to diagnose, but at the
same time I had realized as I watched her getting the heartbeats
there were two. It just confirmed what I had heard over a year plus
ago from the prophecy and what my nautropath had said when I was
there, and also the kicking pattern I was feeling, and the visions I
had had once I found out about Jo. Also made sense why the diet was
working to make me feel really good.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My chiropractor had a friend
who was a sonographer. She had agreed to do a ultrasound if I was
interested. I agreed. We scheduled the ultrasound on Monday when I
was almost 22 weeks. I was excited and scared. I really wasn't
sure how it would go. The more I found out the more that I doubted
an ultrasound would be able to see a pregnancy in me.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I do not have a large
intestine and so my uterus does not stay in the normal place. I,
because of surgery 8 and half years ago (48 stitches right down my
middle front from about 2 inches above my belly button to close to my
pubic bone.), have massive scar tissue. I am a big girl. I am 5
foot 10 or 11 inches and when they did surgery they had to cut
through a 7 inch layer over my organs. Then I was about the same
size I was before this pregnancy. I had at one point been 60 pounds
heavier, but my change in diet and everything had changed that. So
with that seven inch layer still there more than likely and also the
scar tissue and the fact that when I laid back so did my uterus, the
likelihood of seeing anything wasn't good, and after doing an immense
amount of research and talking to people that knew a lot more about
this than I do I knew it probably wasn't going to go well. I was
hopeful though. So we went in for the ultrasound.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My kidneys looked great. My
ovaries and spleen looked great. She checked all my organs. They
were perfect. She found my uterus... At least part of it. The top
didn't show. But she found the bottom and measured it at 10 cm. She
didn't see anything else as far as babies. Disappointment was
immense. Everyone left the room except Megan. I asked Megan to have
her come back while I was sitting up and try some of the places I was
feeling movement. She was very thorough, and she saw my small
intestines and how they were very high up. She found a small hernia
right below my stoma. She could not ultrasound the area where the
scar tissue was. She told me there was no way with ultrasound she
would be able to see anything, but that was where I was feeling
movement. She tried, and found what she said was my transverse colon
with air in it. I spoke up. “I don't have a transverse colon.”
She stopped and looked at me for a moment. “Then I don't know...
It looks like air in... So they took all your colon?”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes, I don't even have a
rectum.”</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAme3rnOVYYEaf3Bj_kGaEl_GrNuS_fG02Gxwg_50h0PFHxVT6p_7u2uWX1F7R1tymH89IB0KgZMjkLh4ee4mjvLUbxtdWXkJVKqyd8NF81byqN57qrm9YmoVNgB7qRUUXZiU3cL83e8/s1600/ultrasound+transverse+colon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAme3rnOVYYEaf3Bj_kGaEl_GrNuS_fG02Gxwg_50h0PFHxVT6p_7u2uWX1F7R1tymH89IB0KgZMjkLh4ee4mjvLUbxtdWXkJVKqyd8NF81byqN57qrm9YmoVNgB7qRUUXZiU3cL83e8/s320/ultrasound+transverse+colon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a transverse colon with air in it that I googled. <br />
What did the sonographer see?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Oh.” She looked at a
few more things, then went back to the 'transverse colon with air in
it' and stopped there.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I don't know what to tell
you... You are a puzzle.” For days I thought about that
ultrasound. There were no fibroids, no tumors, no problems. My
organs were in good shape. But she found a transverse colon that I
do not have, and a uterus that was enlarged but with uterine walls
that were smooth. And she had disproved that I was in menopause by
looking at my ovaries and finding they were normal. In menopause the
ovaries shrink up to nothing or close to that. She was impressed by
my ovaries and how perfect they were. But she could not prove I was
pregnant, and in the end, did not prove that I wasn't either. The
thoughts I was left with was the enlarged uterus and the phantom
transverse colon. For weeks that puzzled me.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A week later I was feeling
movement and had Meg put her hand on my stomach and she felt it too,
right where my scar tissue was. A couple weeks after that I went to
my masseuse and while she was doing a massage, she also felt
movement.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Around this time I had a new
symptom I could not make happen... My stoma had been changing shape,
which I had read about happening in pregnancy, but in some
pregnancies the stoma has so much pressure that more of the small
intestine poked through. As I was changing my appliance that covered
my stoma I noticed a small tear in the skin and a little bit of
intestine poking out near my stoma. This had never happened to me in
the 8 ½ years that I had a stoma even as I gained weight and then
lost it. But at this point as my stomach expanded my stoma was under
pressure. I talked to an ostomy nurse who referred me to talk to a
physicians assistant who basically told me that as long as it was not
causing me trouble, it was quite normal in the later half of
pregnancy. Except for figuring out appliance stuff, it wasn't too
much of a worry unless it was causing me trouble. It hadn't caused
too much problem, except for having to change my appliance sooner
than I was used to. So I decided not to pursue it any further.
Honestly, by that point I was pretty much feeling done with most of
the medical system.
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKWUsE5R3hv8yE4s8g4w5ng6ZQ3BIweQqFTXbD2aaR3LMTiPqdTFFZrsLJnwKkkbTTNUvvRCs5AOeB4HxXmx-pzo5fQism1rfg_gX9qZdqH4QwaB9WtkTGxYBVQhWpq-i3DmoljB37l0/s1600/1959969_427778980658328_1610542392_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKWUsE5R3hv8yE4s8g4w5ng6ZQ3BIweQqFTXbD2aaR3LMTiPqdTFFZrsLJnwKkkbTTNUvvRCs5AOeB4HxXmx-pzo5fQism1rfg_gX9qZdqH4QwaB9WtkTGxYBVQhWpq-i3DmoljB37l0/s320/1959969_427778980658328_1610542392_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is me not pregnant.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At 25 weeks I went into my
masseuse again, and she had bought a doppler fetal monitor, and she
took a heartbeat. It was in the 130s. As she was doing it, my
stomach was moving and once more she was amazed by movement. My
stomach was very stretched. I really didn't feel the movement, but
she did.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The next week I saw my
naturopath again, and she just stared at how much my body changed.
She has seen me for 5 ½ years, and worked with me at my highest
weight. This day she just stared at me and my very rounded stomach.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I have never seen you
like this!” I laughed and shrugged at her comment. She has never
seen me pregnant. I looked very similar to how I looked when I was
pregnant with Hope.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Are you at your highest
weight?” I wasn't and still am not. In fact, I am about ten
pounds from that weight, and my legs and arms are losing weight while
my middle keeps looking more and more like a butterball. She
continued not to know what to think as she NET'd two little people
inside of me and their fear of not surviving. She dealt with some
bacteria issues and helped me figure out what to do to heal that
without it impacting my twins.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I saw her again in April and
she laughed at how the impossible sure seems possible with me. From
doing NET again all seemed fine.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Right now, my body is doing
great. We check my blood pressure and doppler the heart rate of the
babies weekly. We also do urine checks for protein and about ten
other things. My liver started having a little extra throw off of
bilirubin so I added some Milk Thistle and a homeopathic and that
seemed to clear it up for the most part. I am on a very detailed
diet to keep me and the babies healthy. As long as I follow it I
feel pretty good. Each day I get exercise, but walking is a little
slower because I get short of breath pretty easy. Heartburn is my
new friend lately, so little meals almost constantly are the order of
the day. Each time I go to my chiropractor I weigh myself. Even
though this diet has me consuming between 3 & 4 thousand
calories a day my weight has been steady these last weeks. Before
September if I had consumed ¼ of what I eat now I would have been a
hell of a lot bigger than I am now in all my body parts! Instead my
belly is expanding but the rest of me is not. Before this I pretty
much did not eat grains. I stuck to a careful vegetarian diet and if
I veered even to eating a small amount of rice I swelled up horribly.
Now I have between 4-6 servings of some kind of bread/grain a day,
and if I do not eat everything I have issues with low blood sugar.
My protein is beyond belief! And I still eat a ton of veggies, but
now have to make sure I eat 3-4 servings of fruit-- Do not like fruit
for the most part. I would eat strawberries and that was about it.
Now I even drink orange juice and eat mangoes sometimes. Meg has me
eating a banana a day to keep away the leg cramps I started having a
month or so ago. As much as I hate bananas I do it because it has
worked. When I forget I get the leg cramps back along with restless
leg type stuff. Also if I forget my iron I am fatigued beyond
belief. So I stick with it, and it has been good.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgriBMpURM1B3Z3cE0gNTOAcBOIhW1Exr4IlA18V5KwwU-80zogAaJdwC8-eVQA8g4yFFDq4pilGOYwqiXeDFRdijO8vPafGuUld_j3N7oYv30YLhPMjgqkf7lZyAMDqrNiYbJt7X5YjwA/s1600/IMG_20160127_161858271_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgriBMpURM1B3Z3cE0gNTOAcBOIhW1Exr4IlA18V5KwwU-80zogAaJdwC8-eVQA8g4yFFDq4pilGOYwqiXeDFRdijO8vPafGuUld_j3N7oYv30YLhPMjgqkf7lZyAMDqrNiYbJt7X5YjwA/s320/IMG_20160127_161858271_HDR.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Made an error earlier. This was me<br />
at 21 weeks at the end of January.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The reality is that no
doctor will see me. No midwife will take me. So Meg and I are
working on our game plan. Officially I am not pregnant, but my
massage person, Megan, my chiropractor, my naturopath, and my family
all firmly believe I am pregnant with twins. My expanding belly
points to that, the movement points to that, my ever shortening belly
button points to that, the weekly sets of doppler heartbeats taken by
three different practitioners point to that. So I am going with it.
My belly sure has never moved this much on its own without a baby
being involved! And all the symptoms are really weird even if this
was a phantom pregnancy... Besides do you get heart beats with a
phantom pregnancy? That would be strange-- down right spooky.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I have three more weeks
today. My goal is to go for at least 10 more days because I want my
kiddos to have the best chance possible. I think they probably had a
pretty hard start, but I am trying to make up for that, so I am
working hard to do the best I can, but this has been a prayer and
research thing, because I do not have a medical team. I have said
that God is my physician and Meg is his assistant.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
How will birth go? I don't
know.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Where will it happen? That
is a good question. At this point we are planning on birthing at
home. If something doesn't go right we will go to the emergency
room. But going there without a doctor is a little frightening. So
I have a birth plan for that. I am hopeful that nothing will go
wrong. That is in God's hands though. Meg in a few days is taking a class
about emergency birth situation in a home birth setting. This is one of the many ways we have been
preparing. My last birth class is this Sunday. Each day I take time to relax and pray. And of course there is the physical preparing (nesting) and oh boy has there been preparation there!</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYE5z5cqc1Lk5YbN1Ogwqd8pL9mjUTozkL9DQ5Jw6enE9yZthCcjCvVLWH0J2LY_qJT5hXgPpGhy4mj6OGfDTbNbHvAhVrRgCJKmoR1y5sh3AsXdyG9_6r6HAzpcWA2QRNCNP_Y74r24k/s1600/20160315_150221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYE5z5cqc1Lk5YbN1Ogwqd8pL9mjUTozkL9DQ5Jw6enE9yZthCcjCvVLWH0J2LY_qJT5hXgPpGhy4mj6OGfDTbNbHvAhVrRgCJKmoR1y5sh3AsXdyG9_6r6HAzpcWA2QRNCNP_Y74r24k/s320/20160315_150221.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is me at 29 weeks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Some have warned me that I
need to protect my family because CPS will accuse me of neglect
because of not having prenatal care. But how can I do that when a
doctor won't even see me? And I am working to make sure I am caring
for these two and me too. I am doing everything possible in the
circumstances I am in. How can that be construed as neglect? I have
chiropractic care. I have a massage person that is keeping all my
muscles in good order. I am taking birth classes. Daily I am
overcautious of my diet and exercise. We are keeping close tabs on
my blood pressure (which has been normal except when I got
bronchitis). I watch carefully for any swelling that would say there
is a problem. We are doing weekly dopplers ourselves to keep
tabs on how things are going for the twins. I don't always feel the
movements because my belly is very stretched, but sometimes I can
watch them even if I can't feel them, and I still do feel the smaller
movements several times a day. So we will see if anything can be
said against me. I am just walking this one day at a time and
praying my way through.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIvxtdANd4mvPu-QjvvQBIZ2Q-YNZBO4wBduh0VDElEdIjJny56RzheFVPGT1CheVp9c27kewC6Co1HbqvXZpR1Cfb64k5hVNOgLqBcgO5Lop5duhZjm22Ys8iCB7hkvQkYOI12Iu_T_Q/s1600/20160511_132337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIvxtdANd4mvPu-QjvvQBIZ2Q-YNZBO4wBduh0VDElEdIjJny56RzheFVPGT1CheVp9c27kewC6Co1HbqvXZpR1Cfb64k5hVNOgLqBcgO5Lop5duhZjm22Ys8iCB7hkvQkYOI12Iu_T_Q/s320/20160511_132337.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is me today at 37 weeks. <br />
Not my best I admit, but with feeling <br />
so much lower pressure this was the best <br />
I could do today.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I will tell you, though,
with the lack of doctor intervention this last several weeks has been
peaceful-- More peaceful than any other pregnancy. So there is something. I've talked with two nurses in the last couple weeks. Both
told me if I had been with a doctor they would have insisted at
inducing me a 36 weeks because of my age and twins. So maybe going
about things as we have had to is a good thing. I know even now my
babies are not quite ready to come. Now I'm counting down days
instead of weeks though! With my diet I feel better than I ever have
before while I have been pregnant. Since I have never had a problem
giving birth naturally I am not really scared even if this happens at
home. I have a history of fast births, so that could be what
happens, but we will see. I am really looking forward to holding my
twins. That is my biggest thought... Twins. This is what I look
forward to, just holding my two miracles.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After their birth I will post about their coming and more pictures. For right now I am trying to get ready for them! For right now this is Cat out hoping for another 10 days, but realizing that is in God's hands too.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-64407039926430895322016-03-31T18:42:00.000-05:002016-10-11T21:07:41.883-05:00My story: Pregnancy at 46-- Part 2<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMlWTLp1dpmP6nOY2_ftAeWkfcuhr0r89a4gZc1I_8sJP9k82z9dyXe_t0ilGQgyPQE32oNpIrubJAAv_1TH4hoAwhguAWW_iH2apjPU08PFIomieESf_aUHMy0D-7BZVPLky49GnfAKk/s1600/IMG_20160302_144620400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMlWTLp1dpmP6nOY2_ftAeWkfcuhr0r89a4gZc1I_8sJP9k82z9dyXe_t0ilGQgyPQE32oNpIrubJAAv_1TH4hoAwhguAWW_iH2apjPU08PFIomieESf_aUHMy0D-7BZVPLky49GnfAKk/s320/IMG_20160302_144620400.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 2, 2016<br />
I have been keeping picture records <br />
since the end of January</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The dramatic change that I ended the last post with came at the beginning of December.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I
was leaning forward, and suddenly I felt this little fluttery
movement. Say what! Naw... Then again.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I kept this silent from
anyone. It just wasn't possible. A few days later I felt it again.
And a few days later I felt it again while Meg and I were driving to
her prenatal appointment with her midwife. Meg was trying to
convince me that I was pregnant. She kept telling me about a site
that talked about something called cryptic pregnancies...
Pregnancies that have no HCG count and that even ultrasound can't
find. Usually they grow slower and have a longer gestation... Or
some switch over and come out of the undetectable stage after 20
weeks. This happens with 1 in 450 pregnancies. I told her I had
been feeling movement. And that for the last few weeks I wasn't as
sick. She looked up to see how many weeks I was, and found I was 16
weeks at the time, and the nausea should have ended right when it
did. With twin pregnancies I was feeling movement right when I
should be.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My husband got his bonus
from work on December 14<sup>th</sup>, and on that day I visited a
maternity wear shop with Meg, and bought a couple tops and two bras,
pregnancy underwear, and a pair of maternity pants. Whether I was
pregnant or not I was tired of being uncomfortable. When I put the
clothes on, I finally felt comfortable for the first time in a few
weeks. In fact it felt like silk compared to the clothing I had been
trying to fit myself into. I had been wearing my bigger clothing and
trying to convince myself that everything was the same. When I put
on my new clothing I realized how much my middle had grown and how my
body had changed. If anything, my legs and arms were smaller, but my
middle was looking a little like a butterball.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh391BXhfjkJbAeJc7p2AUvqFxXsCIKzKgQyWQE1epd_Kufmb383yG5-UFk_tot8JOYqIcjNusC3k69_jNbqM9ZvDYpUjzg7hqMhzZpM7ctzeWHj_quN0mFGQDbqMVPiwwKiZ9oEVciG0Y/s1600/IMG_20160313_160159739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh391BXhfjkJbAeJc7p2AUvqFxXsCIKzKgQyWQE1epd_Kufmb383yG5-UFk_tot8JOYqIcjNusC3k69_jNbqM9ZvDYpUjzg7hqMhzZpM7ctzeWHj_quN0mFGQDbqMVPiwwKiZ9oEVciG0Y/s320/IMG_20160313_160159739.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 11, 2016<br />
Me in the upstairs bathroom just<br />
trying to keep up a visual diary</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A few days later I visited
my chiropractor again, and she decided to do another doppler. Two
heartbeats 164 & 140 per minute, one on one side of my abdomen
and one on the other. She told me later those were two distinctive
heartbeats-- two babies. But that day, she just let me feel my
wonderment. Heartbeats-- definitely not aortic beats either. There
was something growing inside of me that was alive and moving. That
was a blessing in and of itself. I decided this time I was going to
believe, and I was going to keep my awe. For now I was doing
nothing, but enjoying God's miracle and believing it. The depression
I had felt for the last few weeks lifted almost immediately.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Meg went into labor and Leo
was born on December 23<sup>rd</sup>, and life got crazy. His
baptism was on December 27<sup>th</sup>. In that same period we had
three church services and Christmas.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Beginning of January Meg,
Leo, and I went for a visit to my naturopath. The day before I had
found my chaplet beads, and I looked up the prayers for The Chaplet
of Saint Michael and did my first chaplet in about four years (I did
a chaplet everyday while Becca was pregnant with Tory-- hence her
name means St Michael's Joyous Victory, and most of her name I had
nothing to do with. Becca named her and she did not know about my daily chaplets.) This day we were on our way to see the one health practitioner I
felt like I could trust. If anyone would know if I was pregnant--
It was her. She has been working on my body for five years and knows
how totally different my body works from other people's body. She
knows how the emotional, physical, and spiritual interplay in me, and
she can usually get to the root cause. Moreover, I trust her because
were I am concerned, she has never been wrong.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She began adjusting me, and
trying to figure out what was going on, and my body literally shut
down on her-- Can't explain it any better than that. It refused to
let her work on me. So she tried a different route. One of the
modalities she uses, is something called NET. Literally she can ask
my body what is going on and it will answer-- I am not going to try
to explain that either (if you have had NET done before you
understand), but it has always worked on me. This time though
something else spoke when she asked about me being pregnant...</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Whatever it was it called
what was inside of me 'tissue'. </div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sorry, folks... that was not me!</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I
am adamantly pro-life, and would never call even a baby that has been
miscarried 'tissue'. If anything that is a HUGE trigger word for me!
It shocked her too. She suggested that Meg and I go to lunch and
resume afterwards. So Meg and I left her office, and talked about
what had happened as I was driving.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As we talked, I was silently
praying. I was turning as a thought crossed my mind. Again I
was shocked because it was not mine. I realized I was dealing with
something that was not me. Whatever it was it had been there for a
long time, and for the most part my body recognized it as its own.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That was a BIG problem!
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Meg at the same time spoke
up. “That was not you, Mom.” I had spoke the thought out loud,
and she recognized the same thing as I had. Suddenly God gave me a
clarity on what was going on.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I don't know what anyone
reading this believes, but I believe in light and darkness-- in
spirits on both sides that can and do attach themselves to humans.
Maybe that sounds spooky or crazy, but it is in these beliefs that I
have been able to explain what has happened in my life. I don't
usually talk about these aspects because I respect each person's
ability to believe differently. That to me is a gift that God has
given. We have freedom to come to God or not believe... But with
what happened that day I have to explain where I come from on this
issue because that afternoon changed my understanding of what was
going on within me and why.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I knew that voice was not
me, and my mind flashed back to when I was little and a family
relative had hurt me. I realized that when that happened the thing
speaking had attached itself to my life acting as if it was part of
who I was. I also realized I would not let it stay there!</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspYTCIfGo5UuKX4gOPH9CXohb_lpLIsr4Hu5kv0Pg89_87Pnlm-9KD_QyXIwnwriIN_wvQdgum00a6Yjjh2rDVB4sIvAB0tW8bcC3hW9SRmDxNjKspttH0rfPnKblxMc93wOfogV-7jo/s1600/20160324_181352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspYTCIfGo5UuKX4gOPH9CXohb_lpLIsr4Hu5kv0Pg89_87Pnlm-9KD_QyXIwnwriIN_wvQdgum00a6Yjjh2rDVB4sIvAB0tW8bcC3hW9SRmDxNjKspttH0rfPnKblxMc93wOfogV-7jo/s320/20160324_181352.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 24, 2016<br />
Me over Pascha trying to figure out <br />
what to wear to Good Friday service<br />
This is the latest picture I've taken. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yeah, I know... And I know
where it came from, and I know I need to get rid of it, because it is
not good nor does it have good intentions.” It was then I realized
I was beginning the chaplet for a reason. The Chaplet of St. Michael has always been very powerful. </div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We talked about everything
over lunch, then headed back to my naturopath's office. At the office, my naturopath
began working with my body, but again dealt with something that was
not me. She stepped back, and I could see she was perplexed.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You think you are
pregnant with two babies?” She asked, still looking slightly
shocked. I nodded, but she shook her head.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Nope...” I felt
confused.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You were pregnant with
three, but one has passed... I am not sure what is going on with the
other two, but the one you lost was a girl and she calls the other
two 'spiritual beings'.”
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This is the place I need to
stop, and take a little bit to digest. In that moment I felt a
grief I cannot explain, and sorrow that still is in my heart. Even
now writing this makes me want to cry. I am going to close this down
for the night and come back to finishing this part of the story in
the morning. Probably as I am getting in bed, I will have some
tears. When my naturopath said it I felt the validity, and knew this
was a nugget of truth I needed. I also knew it explained the things
happening, and why my body was acting so weird. But I will come back
to this in the next part of this blog, and give myself a little time to
digest and figure how to write about what happened and the days after my visit to the nautropath. This knowledge really changed my perception of my pregnancy, but as I go into the next part you will understand that better...</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-52097551153630230102016-03-18T01:05:00.001-05:002016-10-11T21:08:11.558-05:00My Story: Pregnant at 46-- Part 1<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyCvgcgk_SVQnu01H_gtj6xBNTNpKmTO5tEAd11vyuprIDZXiSx6mIbbAl7XDALXHSEWMBqrwT3oBhUDN8gPdl86r74YOs9IsxI3E15fXE2KPsZ-K1WI7mM6m9PLVTuJ7K4hJeVDbzTS8/s1600/IMG_20140314_184934_458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyCvgcgk_SVQnu01H_gtj6xBNTNpKmTO5tEAd11vyuprIDZXiSx6mIbbAl7XDALXHSEWMBqrwT3oBhUDN8gPdl86r74YOs9IsxI3E15fXE2KPsZ-K1WI7mM6m9PLVTuJ7K4hJeVDbzTS8/s320/IMG_20140314_184934_458.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with Tory in February 2014<br />
in Florida</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I am pregnant, but here is the beginning of the the story. I'm planning to publish two other post to finish the story. It is not an easy story, and highly weird and irregular... But it's been interesting (with a smiley face).<br />
<br />
So here is the deal. About
two years ago when I was 44 I started having regular periods again
after having gone into menopause. I didn't do anything to change,
but unexpectedly it happened, and I began to question.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am a God follower and
believe that everything happens for a reason. So began a litany of
prayers. I began thinking... It went something like this...
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“God you know I always
wanted more children. Is it possible that you have that in your
thoughts too?” That led to a desire within my heart for having
another birth child, and me making changes just in case it was
possible...
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
--Things like exercise so my
body would be strong, and vitamins to help my body function like it was suppose to.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
--Being cautious with my
diet so that blood sugar would be where it was suppose to.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
--Seeing my naturopath to
help me heal things, and a radical diet called 'Shape' that helped me
shed fat cells and detoxify my body. I don't mean just making me
slim, but actually detoxifying the fat cells because if I was to get
pregnant HCG causes the fat cells to be used and if that happened
that would be bad for my baby. My body gained fat as a way of
protecting me from the toxins my body couldn't deal with when I went
into liver failure seventeen years ago, and later when I was dealing
with a thousand tumors in my colon my body dealt with the toxin being
thrown off by storing them in fat cells. <br />
I knew that if I was to get
pregnant in the condition I was in, it would not be good for the
child, but I was on Shape, and it did help me to detoxify. I was
feeling great by the time we moved to the QC in May of 2014. There were times I got
sick, but it was short and I was handling those times great. My
blood sugar was normal. I was running up and down the steps. I
really felt better than I ever remembered feeling.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
September 12, 2014-- This
is a day I will never forget. A few days before I was praying with a
friend of mine about babies and pregnancy, and on this day I was
still in prayer. She had had a prophecy years ago that she would
have three children, but she only had one.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
--So she was wondering...<br />
So I was praying asking God for an answer. I believe what I hear God
say. I do hear him sometimes. Those times are wild and crazy, but it
always happens just like he says. This was one of those days.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On September 12th I was
praying, and I heard him, but not just about my friend. What he told
me was about me, my friend, and my daughter, Megan. At the time Megan
and I were barely talking, and I had been praying about that too.
Megan wanted another child, but she wasn't dating anyone or anything.
God told me she would get pregnant, then me, then my friend.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Okay God when is this
going to happen.” I asked.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“About a year from today
for you.” Whoa, buddy! Wait... Megan, then me, then my friend? Not
possible. But just in case... I went back on Shape.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The other little detail he
gave me was –twins. For me and my friend. I wanted twins... You
just don't know how bad. I am not going to try to explain. Just
suffice to say I had a vision 20 years ago of a boy and girl twins. I
didn't know for sure what I had seen, but I had thought it was for
me. Seriously though... after twenty years who knew? Now God was
telling about twins in a year! I really must be crazy!</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
April, 2015 Meg found out
she was pregnant. Longer story, but still quite amazing. Since September Meg and I had healed our mother - daughter relationship so much that we were good friends, and when she found out she was pregnant she smiled and looked at me saying, "Your next Mom.".<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Fast forward--- August 28,
2015... This was the first day of my last period. Happened like
clockwork too. Todd still had a vasectomy, no reversal. We really
don't have *erm* relations very often, like the
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
last time was in 2014.
September 9<sup>th</sup> we had some time alone, and well--- the rest
is history.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
September 11<sup>th</sup> I
got sick on my spinach drink that I had almost every day. Almost threw
up. Interesting, but it had to be my overactive imagination. By
about the 20<sup>th</sup> of September I was sick, pretty much 24
hours a day! By the end of September I was sleeping 11 hours a day
when I use to sleep 6-7 hours a day. My boobs were killing me, and
boy, this looked like maybe I was pregnant!</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
October 13<sup>th</sup> I
took my first pregnancy test-- negative.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
October 14<sup>th</sup> I
took my second pregnancy test-- negative.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
October 15<sup>th</sup> I
took my third pregnancy test-- negative.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Okay, maybe my imagination
was way over active. I waited for my period to start. By this time
I was way beyond day 40. What was going on? A little voice inside
was still whispering-- 'Believe the miracle.' Though I wasn't sure if
it was me being hopeful or something else.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
October 20<sup>th</sup> My
doctor did my first blood HCG test-- negative. She told me I was in
menopause and it just hit quickly with me.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0uVbtZPEhhwINqN1JbIZ_tLD7oYX4gm0gM_o33wyHxrr2UdQYCPAlfrXZQK5KMgD-6mbdS3hfCsXOT-q4jK3bNSkUTZdHOiVmjiQX_ACDSQ52obpNy-nZcQs6CDY17-MnqKBSx3tmVA/s1600/cat+in+oct+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0uVbtZPEhhwINqN1JbIZ_tLD7oYX4gm0gM_o33wyHxrr2UdQYCPAlfrXZQK5KMgD-6mbdS3hfCsXOT-q4jK3bNSkUTZdHOiVmjiQX_ACDSQ52obpNy-nZcQs6CDY17-MnqKBSx3tmVA/s320/cat+in+oct+2015.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in October about 7 weeks<br />
pregnant. The bump you see is<br />
actually my ostomy bag</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
End of October, I went to the
bathroom and found a slight pink tinge on the toilet paper. I called
Megan and told her I had started my period, but for two days all it
was was a slight pink tinge. I can't say it was even spotting. Didn't even use a pad Then
it stopped.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
During this time I had a
vision of God pouring his light on my womb and surrounding it with
saints, angels, and the Trinity to protect it from darkness. There
was a darkness outside that was trying to get in, but God kept his
light, and there was no way that darkness could enter the space of my
womb. Why was he doing this if I was never going to have another
child from there? That was a question I pondered for another two
months. That question never let me completely believe that I was not
pregnant, and yet what kind of game was this if I was? It just
didn't make sense. Honestly I was completely confused and didn't
know what to think.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Beginning of November I went
to my chiropractor because my hips were killing me as was my back. I
told her what had been happening, and that I just did not know what
to believe. She asked if I had ever heard of a phantom pregnancy.
Yes, my grandmother had one back in the forties. Our family had
talked about that when I was a kid-- kinda family lore.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I believe, Catherine,
that either you are pregnant or this is a phantom pregnancy.” My
chiropractor said after she adjusted me.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I believe you are right,
it is either one or the other. I just don't know which one it is.”
I responded. I had come to the same conclusions in the last couple
weeks. I wanted to be pregnant so bad, maybe my brain was trying to
make me happy...</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I have a doppler.” She
said. “We could use it and see if we get a heartbeat.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I'm game.” I said.
Heartbeat or lack thereof would put this to rest.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Are you ready for this?
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She got a heart beat. It
was 110-115. It shocked her as much as it did me. I was nine weeks
along. For 24 hours I was ecstatic!
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then I tried to get an
ultrasound. For that I needed an HCG count.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Another urine test--
negative.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Another blood test--
negative.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The doctor I was trying to
get in with refused to see me. So I went to the ER. Surely they
would help me get an ultrasound.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Another blood test--
negative.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The ultrasound tech couldn't
find my uterus. All she got was pictures of my ovaries. She was
doing a transvaginal ultrasound, and literally I almost jumped off
the table because she hurt me while trying to get a picture of my
ovaries. Meg was watching the machine and all she saw was ovaries.
The technician was young and said she had three other patients to see
before she wrote out her reports.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The doctor while doing an
exam earlier had mentioned that my cervix was low. That happens in
pregnancy. That isn't something he said, but a fact I know because
of studying pregnancy and birth when my girls were pregnant.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When the doctor returned
with all the test results-- including some blood work. I had a UT
infection. That is another thing that only happens to me during
pregnancy.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Doctor said “Well we saw
your uterus no pregnancy, but we couldn't see your ovaries.” Excuse me? The tech had hurt me getting pictures of my ovaries! And she never did see my uterus! What the hell? I didn't speak up feeling very shocked. I probably should have, but there is still a small part of me that believes in the infallibility of doctors (I would think I would have gotten over that a long time ago, but in the ER it reared its ugly head and I became silent.)<br />
That
was the second week of November. I accepted what he said, and went
home. Maybe I just didn't understand... Maybe the tech made a mistake, but how could an ultrasound be wrong? <br />
<br />
Honestly I didn't know what to think. I was ten weeks by this point. I
still had a ton of pressure below, even after the UT was gone.
-Still sick 24/7. -Still tired all the time. -Still went from not
being able to stand food to ravenous! Still unreasonably emotional going from angry to crying to smiling in 2.1 seconds! Still, the ultrasound said I
was not pregnant. The doctor said there was no way I was pregnant
and so had all the tests said the same. After all... there was proof I was
not pregnant... I guess I needed to accept that truth.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
End of November I began to
salivate for a roast beef sandwich from Arby's... For over a week I
dreamed of eating one. I am a vegetarian, not by choice, but because
my body rejects any kind of meat or animal product that have even a
trace of blood in it. Hence, pepperoni I can sometimes eat, but eggs
never stay down. Last time I ate Arby's was over five years ago and
I was sick for days! Haven't craved one since then until now.<br />
<br />
Finally I was at the grocery store and I bought two gluten free sub rolls
(they come in a two pack). Meg was with me and we went to Arby's and I
got my roast beef. I devour it! Then I went back inside and bought a second
one! Meg actually took a picture. The only time I eat meat
willingly is while I am pregnant. With Hope I ate McDonald's
cheese burgers and Arby's roast beef almost daily! Now I am a little
more careful with my diet and understand why this happens. This was
a protein and iron craving, and I knew it.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
That only happens when I am
pregnant! But the doctors all said I was not! Do I believe my body,
what I am hearing from God, and what my daughter Meg believes, or do
I believe the medical world and doctors?<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I began on some iron, and
told myself I was crazy. But there was still that voice telling me
louder than ever “Believe the miracle. Believe the miracle.”
Okay... I was beginning to believe the voice speaking might be God.
But what miracle? Miracle... Ultrasound said I was not pregnant.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24d-hQMi3qkqNkBx_mimfmVJgFzOZtChLKsn6o8hKuoc4NfCLO6RkfHyTvOQuE7zGN7D2LbtluLS_jGGxa1ErcoBo2F00YKgR5MgBW9NkGgDibrhbULs1y8tCOfi1zlHkNymdKQwyWvg/s1600/IMG_20160127_161858271_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24d-hQMi3qkqNkBx_mimfmVJgFzOZtChLKsn6o8hKuoc4NfCLO6RkfHyTvOQuE7zGN7D2LbtluLS_jGGxa1ErcoBo2F00YKgR5MgBW9NkGgDibrhbULs1y8tCOfi1zlHkNymdKQwyWvg/s320/IMG_20160127_161858271_HDR.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me January 27th at 21 weeks. Todd<br />
took this because my Mom wanted<br />
to see what I looked like now. The very<br />
poky part is my ostomy (stoma).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The other thing that had
been happening is that things were getting tighter around the middle,
and I had all but stopped wearing my bras because of how painful it
was to wear them. I kept complaining that my skin was so sensitive
and itchy... Another pregnancy symptom, but I was trying not to
believe because otherwise I felt crazy! In fact during this time I
told God I was giving all this to him and would accept I was not
pregnant. That is when I went into a depression close to what I had
as a teen (that is really REALLY bad!).</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I went to talk to my
counselor-- she is also a God follower. As she was talking to me, she realized how much darkness was around me, and ask me what door was
open, or what was going on that was allowing it to be there? Leaving
her office I knew what it was... When this came on was when I tried
to believe I was not pregnant. I prayed and asked God to show me a
clear path, and show me what to believe because I just did not
understand. But I told no one about this. What if the miracle was
me being pregnant with twins? What if that was the miracle I was
suppose to believe? Maybe I needed to take the chance to believe...
So what if I was crazy? Was this miracle any bigger than the check
that came in the mail that allowed us to move to the QC? I mean that
was $14,000 that we had not expected that came a day after Todd said
there was no way we could afford to move-- baring a miracle. I
wrestled with these ideas. But things were about to dramatically
change.</div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That change I will talk about in the second part of this. Also I'll post more pictures too. Just this part has taken me weeks to write, and I'm still working on the next part and last part. So until next week, this is Cat out.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-27532286812848084632016-02-17T20:31:00.000-06:002016-02-17T20:31:49.330-06:00Giving Everyone Something to Think AboutFirst, let me apologize for pretty much falling off the side of the planet for the last month. Second, I don't know that I will have pictures in this post because I am not sure what pictures to post with this. Now for my something to think about.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><b><i>Do you think a man with a vasectomy and a woman who was post menopausal could have a child by birth without any interventions?</i></b></span><br />
<br />
Well-- I literally came out of menopause 2 years ago and my husband had a vasectomy almost 19 years ago. I am 25 weeks pregnant today. Not the usual thing I would talk about, and for the last month have been trying to figure out how to talk about it because it is not a typical pregnancy.<br />
<br />
So.. I have taken three blood tests, and six urine tests and all of them have been negative. Yes I said negative. I've also had two ultrasounds, but my pregnancy wasn't able to be seen in either of them because of the position of my uterus and the amount of scar tissue I have. So how do I know that I am pregnant?<br />
<br />
At 9 weeks we got our first Doppler heartbeats. That prompted the first ultrasound. Which then the doctors were convinced I was not pregnant, I begrudgingly tried to accept that until I started feeling movement at 15/16 weeks. At that point there was another Doppler with heart beats ranging from 120-140 in two separate locations in my lower abdomen. Two weeks later it was 126 & 140. Two weeks after that it was 164 &140s. Two weeks after that 120s & 146. Lastly it was 169, and the other side was harder to get this time but still heard faintly.<br />
<br />
Movement is on both sides of my uterus sometimes at the same time, and sometimes only at one side, and it has been getting progressively stronger. In the last two days my oldest daughter, Meg has felt movement three time when she has put her hand on my abdomen.<br />
<br />
Further more I look like a butterball!<br />
<br />
And I am not even going to go into the pregnancy symptoms! Because they have been insane! Emotions have run crazy. Besides just fatigue and nausea. I went from sleeping 6-7 hours a night to needing 11 hours a night. The first 13 weeks I was walking around in a fog, and bitchy as all get out! Now I get weepy at various times, and fearful, but at least I am clearer during the day. There are many many more symptoms, but for now you get the point.<br />
<br />
We have checked all other causes and did tests to figure things out, but no one can over look the fact that my belly moves on it's own and has its own heart beat that is more than twice as fast as mine.<br />
<br />
We are still figuring out the medical stuff, because this is confusing even for the best doctors, and I've had some that at this point have refused to see me. But I am doing well and the life inside me seems to keep growing, moving, and proving that anything is possible.<br />
<br />
I thought I would give everyone a heads up of what is going on and why I haven't been the best with communication, and also something to think about. Next time you hear of a woman who gives birth without knowing she is pregnant-- maybe she is like me... Or maybe she knew and couldn't prove it. If I hadn't had a doctor that would continue to do Dopplers I would not know either.<br />
<br />
Just saying... I will try to keep updates coming, and maybe even some pictures next time. Also this is only the tip of the iceberg with my story-- There is much more. I had 5 pages written and was not even close to finishing--<br />
<br />
So this is only a little-- very little introduction.<br />
<br />
More may be coming as I figure how to piece it. This is Cat out-- with a smile and a little excitement about the future days!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-42217927181573188202015-12-08T00:46:00.001-06:002015-12-08T00:46:29.379-06:00Update on Patrick's Rose<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkl8OWWmHWAGq2InXMB2CWfEx_jl5kSXkjvVW70IxV1RGZ-Kt3gQAADUo9IvHgb5LNOJSei4X787oVGltr2-riW96jqcFj76BfT8yaxNi4nnBDX8lDcwXlhBoIkptO4R3zn7l8sIEgYi4/s1600/red+rose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkl8OWWmHWAGq2InXMB2CWfEx_jl5kSXkjvVW70IxV1RGZ-Kt3gQAADUo9IvHgb5LNOJSei4X787oVGltr2-riW96jqcFj76BfT8yaxNi4nnBDX8lDcwXlhBoIkptO4R3zn7l8sIEgYi4/s320/red+rose.jpg" width="320" /></a>Patrick's Rose is proving to be an interesting manuscript. I've been editing it for two years, and hoping to publish by Mid-January... If I am lucky/blessed! I am 200 pages in with another 180 pages or so to go. It is proving to be quite different than The Key to Her Heart. It is faster paced, and has a more ahhh... paranormalish feel to it, though I would not put it in the paranormal arena, it does verge on it in some scenes. As a teen and young woman I read a lot of Frank Peretti, and I am not writing at that level, but I've had a little bit of fun with some Christian Mystic type demon and angel interaction. All this is within the context of the storyline and fits with the characters. Right this moment I am not completely sure how far I am going to take it. Also I should warn, it doesn't end or begin like anyone is expecting. But isn't that the fun of a sequel? If it was what you would expect it would be boring!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKY4XWpMFnlci-htmEQH9MBEdJrkgGpHcxmPGpnqaHyYZpQ_hdQMtJwQ62wzj1WfeasdoeUtBWx47Ifr9zFiUmX0F2Es6T-KcrEQDdkbBy9zdHm6U7qlTL6v6q0HQDlMkQa9O_-y29oiw/s1600/woman+red+dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKY4XWpMFnlci-htmEQH9MBEdJrkgGpHcxmPGpnqaHyYZpQ_hdQMtJwQ62wzj1WfeasdoeUtBWx47Ifr9zFiUmX0F2Es6T-KcrEQDdkbBy9zdHm6U7qlTL6v6q0HQDlMkQa9O_-y29oiw/s200/woman+red+dress.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Anna is a much stronger character, and in some cases provokes her own problems, but I am so proud of how she takes her power back. Will that serve her well, or will it lead her to more trouble? She is not in the habit of just doing what people ask of her. She has her own ideas and is determined to see them work. Besides she has reasons she has to survive, and people riding on her success. If she fails there is so much more at stake than just her own life. So she can't fail, right?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiy9fykyPcp6-etH5Yqz8T1HhHUZ1X9ExWNCl2AhfDFzRF4U3JQbxFH0QqrW9yIokJ_1kmg_DkG8DMXJ7ViEQhguy5ASXoHBT4I7qEAoC09ZFNjHOTGTevMXW_rJ_COV0bDCfkSja-FB8/s1600/woman+and+red+rose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiy9fykyPcp6-etH5Yqz8T1HhHUZ1X9ExWNCl2AhfDFzRF4U3JQbxFH0QqrW9yIokJ_1kmg_DkG8DMXJ7ViEQhguy5ASXoHBT4I7qEAoC09ZFNjHOTGTevMXW_rJ_COV0bDCfkSja-FB8/s200/woman+and+red+rose.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Wolffe has upped his ante, and is determined to force her to his will. To him she is his own possession and he is use to getting what he wants. So why would he let a dim witted peon have what is his? Besides he can feel where she is. But why does she continue to run from him? He knows it is only because she has been duped into believing what the brainless fools around her want her to think! He also knows her biggest secret, and just when she thinks she has escaped him he finds her once more. This time he intends to take her for his own pleasure--- never will he let anyone near her again! Does he get his way? Or is she just a little faster and smarter? Maybe she has a little help of the divine nature. Or maybe he is finally going to win this battle.<br />
<br />
Patrick is just as determined to keep his Anna safe, and he is not afraid to fight for her. There is one BIG problem--- their life is hidden in the middle of a whirlwind. As it continues to get worse, he is not so sure either of them will live through it, but he vowed a promise as dear to his heart as their marriage vows. He is bound to heaven above not just Anna to keep that promise. Will he succeed or is it just another promise bound to be broken, even as hard as he is trying to make things the way he knows they need to be?<br />
<br />
These are some of the plot questions I have been working out. Most questions I have figured out and written, but then as I am editing I have to decide if I have written it the way I want it, or if I've taken it further than it needs to go or not far enough. The ending is written and edited twenty times over, and I like it. The beginning is written and I absolutely love it! It is at about the three quarter point that I am having some trouble. It will all get worked out and I will be able to share with everyone very soon! In the meantime if you would like to read The Key to her Heart, below is the link:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHyalSsVrOl4SGKZEEDcH5G92M7yDkPk1N5TxkaeSDspVw7VlWWk4MijIhSxf_k-7Be-g7enMoQ4xpKvPOdhFzW3yOfFvDroDNjILcLbmS8asiDnIJnQ7sy8p88IBPSOHAiIUc0VlTLU/s1600/CatHerzog-72dpi-1500x2000+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHyalSsVrOl4SGKZEEDcH5G92M7yDkPk1N5TxkaeSDspVw7VlWWk4MijIhSxf_k-7Be-g7enMoQ4xpKvPOdhFzW3yOfFvDroDNjILcLbmS8asiDnIJnQ7sy8p88IBPSOHAiIUc0VlTLU/s200/CatHerzog-72dpi-1500x2000+%25284%2529.jpg" width="150" /></a>http://www.amazon.com/Key-Her-Heart-Family-ebook/dp/B00FS6MYR8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381511421&sr=1-1&keywords=tHE+KEY+TO+HER+HEART%28THE+HEART+OF+THE+FAMILY%29<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-78671327168396768672015-11-13T10:25:00.000-06:002015-11-13T10:25:25.314-06:00Review of FERTS by Grace Hudson<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">This review took me longer to write because of the things happening in my life in the last couple months, but don't let that make you think that I didn't completely love the story. It was an amazing read. Below is my review and below that I will add a link for anyone who thinks they would like to read it. If you like a thrilling, dystopian ride, then FERTS is a must read!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdeSHnnC_f-h8ZXBPoJmkBEVxdQWMXogEyMxRoXC8UmyGNLbvQZ57usSdcVqEFcSdEENAixPXz_BWww8dZqlsBZsGeuJRndxFDsc3y5W36DIzHBYvrdNo1ol-uosYAGBDT1-POs1szTw/s1600/ferts+dark+haired+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdeSHnnC_f-h8ZXBPoJmkBEVxdQWMXogEyMxRoXC8UmyGNLbvQZ57usSdcVqEFcSdEENAixPXz_BWww8dZqlsBZsGeuJRndxFDsc3y5W36DIzHBYvrdNo1ol-uosYAGBDT1-POs1szTw/s200/ferts+dark+haired+woman.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Wow! I don't
generally read dystopia novels, but this one's plot line intrigued
me, and so I decided to try it out. It was a very good read.
Beth259201 (just 201 for most of the story) was an intelligent woman
stuck in a horrible situation. The story is set where women are
raised and taken to be slaves of men's base needs, whether sexual or
fighting. Women are taught that the whole reason for their existence
is to let a man do whatever he wants to her. Her whole schooling is
to be pretty and seductive, if she is not good at that, then she is
trained to be a fighter, and if she is not good at that she becomes
the work horse for the society. That is a woman's existence. No
complaining, no dignity, no love.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaic46-ygeNjkYGxrcXcbuT_sNUtaCbaLU1oOTLB9kOXDPk4eJQSe-O0TXTR2eBc0v9BJcfKvKbD4WB-eQYAvIq9x23JiGLRH7Wj26hEGk44vNWETn0aQ7m2GuyCq5ngDkLZxd6SBHdBM/s1600/Wilcox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaic46-ygeNjkYGxrcXcbuT_sNUtaCbaLU1oOTLB9kOXDPk4eJQSe-O0TXTR2eBc0v9BJcfKvKbD4WB-eQYAvIq9x23JiGLRH7Wj26hEGk44vNWETn0aQ7m2GuyCq5ngDkLZxd6SBHdBM/s200/Wilcox.jpg" width="149" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">The society is
the brain child of Pinnacle Officer Wilcox who is a deranged
'scientist' and misfit to normal society. He developed FERTS to ease
his conscious of the horrible things he did in the past.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWPCF3w9TbrAOv86GQISL-8ZRPp7zvoo7Q_30xOD1JiBCdUah8HWh9UodOmC60MmENDdgCUHyYeevIT63rXY2uv3bN1QrXEmwxKRawbr0zVS8CF8IsiyPUX0ps8xUYDVnW5zKYrWdvmY/s1600/ferts+dark+haired+woman+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWPCF3w9TbrAOv86GQISL-8ZRPp7zvoo7Q_30xOD1JiBCdUah8HWh9UodOmC60MmENDdgCUHyYeevIT63rXY2uv3bN1QrXEmwxKRawbr0zVS8CF8IsiyPUX0ps8xUYDVnW5zKYrWdvmY/s200/ferts+dark+haired+woman+2.png" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">201 has
instincts that tell her there is something wrong, and intelligence to
realize she had better keep quiet. As the story goes on, she
understands more and more. She has only one allie, and strange
dreams to give her some guidance. She knows she has to do something
about this, that she just cannot live this way. She 'sees' what she
is to do, and it is an amazing thrilling journey as you walk with her
through the bad and the triumphant! </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I am very glad
I read FERTS. It was well written and completely thought out story
that kept me going until the last word! </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Thank you,
Grace Hudson, for an awesome story. My hope, with how it ended, is
that there is a sequel! I would love to see what happens next.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">So here is the link to buy FERTS by Grace Hudson.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">http://www.amazon.com/FERTS-Grace-Hudson-ebook/dp/B010II21DW</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-32434241496348998062015-11-01T21:52:00.000-06:002015-11-01T21:52:31.088-06:00A question-- Does anyone have an answer?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC9mtHfh-XZkZPV1GYBFp-8j2-KBABCvzurfVo0X6b6PWzV84KrGJOdJRoEv9skygmvqmo95ogpda4okLiPVf31zblSqm9xTkLq-nPU4zMNiKq06fJt6fUGZoLJZMqL_7n2GJbXyKK7W8/s1600/friends+arguing+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC9mtHfh-XZkZPV1GYBFp-8j2-KBABCvzurfVo0X6b6PWzV84KrGJOdJRoEv9skygmvqmo95ogpda4okLiPVf31zblSqm9xTkLq-nPU4zMNiKq06fJt6fUGZoLJZMqL_7n2GJbXyKK7W8/s1600/friends+arguing+3.jpg" /></a>This is just a question. And maybe the answer is that it is just a troll-- Before I even begin. But thought I would post this to those that may be smarter than I am.<br />
<br />
A friend of mine, today, had someone post a horribly nasty 'note' on their Facebook account, publicly, where any one that also saw the picture this friend had posted could read it. It was so defaming, so untrue, and terribly attacked my friend's character, yet this person was 'supposedly' upset over the issue my friend presented. <br />
<br />
Shock filled me. It was a long well written post. You could tell they had thought about it before writing it, and had spent considerable time crafting their response, but it was so filled with hate and anger, and maybe even hurt. I mean, this person was passionate about what they felt like my friend had done wrong-- to the point of seeming to hate her personally, not just the issue that they felt like she had wrong. To top it off, it was so full of either complete misunderstanding, or out and out lies, that I could not help but respond. As much as I could I tried to stick to the issues that were brought up, and the facts as I know them instead of lowering myself to attacking character. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMCz0RH1i5eHeyDtCdCFiM_biHOg3M5YOtbno2LqWRblxhR9aBqSyzI1P865Ml8w1M7zcFy8_oHcN-HcMY_LPXgKoHK2N8ertru5X9BX7mD9RoEeNP0OTtveBrKBzQkbGlhbgS8AbiJs/s1600/friends+arguing+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMCz0RH1i5eHeyDtCdCFiM_biHOg3M5YOtbno2LqWRblxhR9aBqSyzI1P865Ml8w1M7zcFy8_oHcN-HcMY_LPXgKoHK2N8ertru5X9BX7mD9RoEeNP0OTtveBrKBzQkbGlhbgS8AbiJs/s320/friends+arguing+1.jpg" width="240" /></a>My friend and I are very close. I know her very well, and I know the facts were at best twisted. In the post I could hear the person's anger and bitterness in their wording, even though, it seemed as though they did their best to write as if they were not bitter. What really shocked me was, there was no provocation, and the other person was someone I had met before and thought was a friend of my friend. I called my friend and asked what the circumstances were, and she was as floored as I was. She just had not seen this coming. She even mentioned that, even though they were friends, it wasn't someone she had spent a lot of time with, and so she didn't know what this person had against her, or why they did this in this way. Why do this publicly to a friend? --<br />
<br />
<br />
Even if not a super close friend?<br />
<br />
Has anyone had this happen before? I'm sure someone has, but I am just trying to understand this and make sense of this. I can't really accept the thought of the person being a troll, because to my knowledge they have never done this to anyone before. <br />
<br />
If they felt so hurt, or upset, wouldn't they go to the person privately? But in such a public format--<br />
<br />
It just shocked me. <br />
<br />
It probably isn't my business, but it was just vicious and very wrong (both content and how they went about it). I felt as if I had to speak to defend my friend's honor. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhibGgF9cGV7PSYc-2qECl2xx2_n37VnleR3wUQSAwGX1dopXTO7bgxzwoOBZzWqtjBDUJLTOob1LfrWIRI3BzwudxKXimtGoajVo95XfvcHRd_cwCQTJ3aFJ6CN8AmgKrMVfXmmV5pJpQ/s1600/friends+arguing+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhibGgF9cGV7PSYc-2qECl2xx2_n37VnleR3wUQSAwGX1dopXTO7bgxzwoOBZzWqtjBDUJLTOob1LfrWIRI3BzwudxKXimtGoajVo95XfvcHRd_cwCQTJ3aFJ6CN8AmgKrMVfXmmV5pJpQ/s320/friends+arguing+2.jpg" width="320" /></a>Any words of understanding or wisdom? I would love to hear from people. You can PM me if you would like. Or respond on twitter or here. I am kinda trying to figure out proper etiquette-- if you will, and also really trying to make sense of 'why?'. <br />
<br />
Thank you for reading this, and listening, and for any responses you choose to send my way (in advance thank you.)<br />
<br />
This is Cat out.<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-6960502717675198802015-10-23T10:56:00.000-05:002015-10-23T10:56:38.059-05:00Hostage Situation? You decide. Part 4<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the
first part of this blog series, I was not overstating any of the
hypotheticals. You've learned about her experience of the first
three days in the second and third parts of this. I left off when
she went into the psych ward. Which, though the shortest part, for
me, was the most frightening part. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh2gFqosY6MiFHBlet_2__R8c13FXf3gyXYAi5zNSKi_n_0jMicy5L11dCnLTEX93jq7oDf3vkMyhYHQ2z5onSn-JJO6A-JQY3SkgzV96uTICrNgywYbPCcn6X2dznc2SOQvjrg4cgEY/s1600/women_talking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh2gFqosY6MiFHBlet_2__R8c13FXf3gyXYAi5zNSKi_n_0jMicy5L11dCnLTEX93jq7oDf3vkMyhYHQ2z5onSn-JJO6A-JQY3SkgzV96uTICrNgywYbPCcn6X2dznc2SOQvjrg4cgEY/s200/women_talking.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thank goodness for the patient
advocate that came to visit her Wednesday evening/afternoon! Besides
making sure my daughter got better care, she also gave her advise on
how to handle the psych ward. She visits patients there too, and she
had seen how dark of a place it can be. One small piece of advise, that we didn't realize was so important at the time, was to ask for pen and paper when she got there. Besides prayer that
was the most important piece that kept my daughter from having a
panic attack while she was there.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So to
continue where I left off in Part 3... </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At 6
in the evening, on Wednesday, a security guard, Meg, and I went with
my daughter to the psych ward.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
first thing that happened was that we were told (Meg and I) that we
would have to have our things, including our cell phones, locked up
while we were there. From then on-- when we came to visit we could
only bring our keys. So our things were locked away to be given back
when we left.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
second thing was that the visiting hours were 6 p.m. To 8 p.m. &
10:30 a.m. To noon. That was it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next
up... My daughter had to sign a good 30 pages of intake paperwork to
be admitted. That was where we found out that the longest they could
hold her was five days- even if she had been forcibly put there. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My
daughter was then given stiff gray scrubs to wear, and told she could
not wear her own clothes until she was there 24 hours, and most
likely she would be there at least 24 hours. She still was not
allowed to have her things. She was given a folder with papers on
what to expect. She and Meg read it over multiple times figuring
out all the ins and outs-- They are both like that. A nurse with a
constant smile ordered a food tray for her and made sure it didn't
have gluten or apples. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmHTMr8IO_6SabVcEgI8krv5qzjb631kq4qlbYIaCS9SNtP85a242e4Mcx6GTtKrstKwDJB9_jBvJi4Dz5eNbRTQIoBKmDRHvlMcL8nBK4nx8J_VM1hJbl5w7APL2JpFtg5dKYXeQk_g/s1600/psych+ward+bedroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmHTMr8IO_6SabVcEgI8krv5qzjb631kq4qlbYIaCS9SNtP85a242e4Mcx6GTtKrstKwDJB9_jBvJi4Dz5eNbRTQIoBKmDRHvlMcL8nBK4nx8J_VM1hJbl5w7APL2JpFtg5dKYXeQk_g/s320/psych+ward+bedroom.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is very similar to the room, next to this would have been <br />another bed just like it. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
nurse was nice, so don't get me wrong, but the constant smile was a
little hard for me to deal with right then, but he did genuinely seem to care which was nice. We spent a little bit of time in her
room-- which by the way was a double occupancy room. There was not
another person in there, at that point, but there were no 'private
rooms' and they could not promise one-- <i>Yet the psychiatrist had</i>.
They had blocked it off for that night so that she would have the
room to herself that night, but there were no promises of what would
happen the next day. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was
a 'suicide prevention' unit, so nothing pointy or dangerous was
allowed. Including cell phones. Yet she was allowed to have a
pen... Some of the rules kinda contradicted each other, which didn't
make sense.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After
a few moments we were told that we weren't allowed in her room. So
we went to the common room where all the patients were. Here is
where I need to take a deep breath. --In fact I am going to go into
morning mass and come back to this in a moment because this was the
place that first shocked me the most and it still makes me have a
little shiver...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1zYnZ2RsNP4PPpBIx3L5oDh2VNDJTkcXE4V0_JB29HYDRkG06UeIKNI1sQF9qqL81bz8LWMOQiHcZ20d6sAkAeTV5V4MXr5XSBNWhIaQvLqudDhpxqwbcZAeM-QUFyoDmp-1kuspkkw/s1600/psych+ward--+yeah+it+was+like+that.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1zYnZ2RsNP4PPpBIx3L5oDh2VNDJTkcXE4V0_JB29HYDRkG06UeIKNI1sQF9qqL81bz8LWMOQiHcZ20d6sAkAeTV5V4MXr5XSBNWhIaQvLqudDhpxqwbcZAeM-QUFyoDmp-1kuspkkw/s320/psych+ward--+yeah+it+was+like+that.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was close to how it felt, but worse in that common room</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the
common room, on one side, was a large television set up like a living
room. Some game was on-- I think it was football. There were many
people there. Some looked extremely tense, some nervous, some I
would have run away from if I had met them on the street. No one
there was someone I would feel comfortable with. On the other side
of the room were long tables and hard chairs, almost like cafeteria
style seating. That is where we sat down. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Right
near us was a young man with tufted hair with eye glasses, but on top
his head instead of on the bridge of his nose. His eyes were wide
and almost bulging out of his head, and he very much seemed like a
human peacock. He was loud, not in a good way, and a little
frightening, and I noticed he kept watching us... -- looking, but
not coming near us. That frightened me more. If he had come over and
tried to talk to us that would have eased my fears. He didn't and
literally he was peacocking around as if looking for attention.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My
daughter held my hand and Meg's, and we sat quietly talking, trying
to not make any commotion. Someone noticing you just didn't seem
like a good idea in this place. So we stuck close together and talked lowly. I
could feel my daughter's tension. The worst part-- this is where we
were suppose to leave her and she would stay over night at least. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her
food came and she began to eat it as best she could. No apple or
juice this time around. That was good. It was the same thing she
had had for lunch, and for dinner the night before-- I mean that
literally. But it was food. The problem was it was a breast of
chicken, uncut and she was given a plastic fork and plastic spoon,
but no plastic knife because it was the suicide unit. <i>Seriously!
You could have a pen but not a plastic knife! If this was the way
they wanted it fine! They could have given her fajita chicken then.</i> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She tried to cut the chicken with the plastic fork, but no doing. So
finally she picked it up, took a couple of bits, then gave up the
attempt. It was really tough and had quite a bit of gristle</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">.
She ate the green beans and, even though she doesn't like rice, the
rice. The milk she left.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next
to us was the only phone, by the way, and we got the number to call
in to check on her and also to give to her boyfriend. She was also
told she could call </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5H5M8VV0SLe3k1UfAgGXBqUf0sTG5CEbVUymlLvLQyC0v6JsGWQgx_WuAVUYLymBqv_dC6_8CzLmCp4u_qcsiihaJwIj16PO_CW_H_6LGZnjOP1RKEtI-wdTHgqBrRhyphenhyphen3OMAFTk9QFPc/s1600/psych+ward+phone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5H5M8VV0SLe3k1UfAgGXBqUf0sTG5CEbVUymlLvLQyC0v6JsGWQgx_WuAVUYLymBqv_dC6_8CzLmCp4u_qcsiihaJwIj16PO_CW_H_6LGZnjOP1RKEtI-wdTHgqBrRhyphenhyphen3OMAFTk9QFPc/s320/psych+ward+phone.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">her boyfriend or me from the nurse's desk and
they would transfer the call out to this phone. A little good.
Except the coiled metal cord was about two feet-- maybe three feet--
long, so you were stuck standing there or pulling a chair over and
kinda squatting on it to be the right height.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While
we were there the psychiatrist called her into his office. When she
was talking to him Meg and I got her water jug that they had assign
her, and went to find a nurse to fill it again for her, and ended
talking to another nurse who was understanding. He promised to keep
an eye on her. He had a brother-in-law that has Asperger's like both
my daughters do, and when we explained what was going on he was a little
appalled they would force her to be there. He truly got it, and he
was the first to show understanding beside the patient advocate. Meg
and I seeing we had an allie told him everything that
happened. He was the first to say strongly, she didn't belong there.
That was the reason he promised to watch out for her. The next day
several other nurses were saying the same thing. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A
little while later, we had some more time with my daughter before we
had to leave. I really saw how even here in this place that seemed
so horribly dark and scary, God had put a little light. Though I was
frightened to leave her-- especially with Mr. Peacock strutting around, I prayed and hugged her, shed a few tears, then left her
there. That was not what I wanted at all, not what she wanted, not
what Meg wanted, but what we were forced to do. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That
night was dark. I prayed the rosary on the way home, and got lost (I
never lose my way where driving is concerned). The darkness wasn't
just the sky, but it was night around us.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
finished my rosary and saw a highway I knew, hopped on it, and was
home a little later. Meg was already there playing with her son
when I walked in. I got the biggest hug from my cantankerous 14 year
old son, took a shower, then helped my 4 year old little sweetie get
ready for bed. All night I tossed and turned while waking and
praying. I didn't know then, but my daughter was having the same kind of
night, and had spent a teary half hour on the phone with her
boyfriend. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
gathered myself together in the morning, then left the house and got
to the hospital early, just in time for a call from my daughter's
boyfriend. He was worried because she was in tears last night and
this morning it wasn't any better. I told him I was there and I
would be up there as soon as they would let me in the door. I
brought a brush, band, and a clean pair of underwear with me, stuck
in my pocket. I left my cell in the car after talking to him, and
grabbed my keys and ran inside. If they would open that door early,
I would be there. They didn't. In fact, they were late. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
found my daughter in the common room in tears, shaking, and telling
me she could not spend another night there. I held her and helped
her calm down. We sat down finally, and she began telling what the
night before and that morning had been like. The peacock had been
irrationally yelling in the hallway in front of her room the night
before after getting on the phone screaming that he was being
tortured and hadn't been fed since he had been there. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_opWVr21qpjo2XrVruAZdbDDT3ZMU6xlCO376aHIjBeCW7vIx1gkeGfTuM-5AJ28R_f3XDY2UF2NqT1dk1rCRGAUgWRtwcyOoSlUliU4iusG70_nUnP8BtVRtZA_JzAf4I-wXIjA4wCc/s1600/bug+eyed+crazy+person.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_opWVr21qpjo2XrVruAZdbDDT3ZMU6xlCO376aHIjBeCW7vIx1gkeGfTuM-5AJ28R_f3XDY2UF2NqT1dk1rCRGAUgWRtwcyOoSlUliU4iusG70_nUnP8BtVRtZA_JzAf4I-wXIjA4wCc/s200/bug+eyed+crazy+person.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah-- He was kinda like this<br />But his hair was tufted and<br />had glasses on top his head</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At that
moment he was yelling out a verse from an open bible every time the
room quieted down at all. That is the only time in my whole life
that I would say that scripture really seemed like an unholy thing
when it was read! </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the
morning she had went to her room and he stood at the doorway staring
at her and making little noises as she pretended to be asleep. She
said she didn't know what to do. She hoped if she didn't act as if
she was affected by him that he would leave her alone. The standing
at the doorway staring at her really frightened her because no one
seemed to notice or care. At least the night before someone had
finally stopped him. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To top
it off, later, before I got there she got a roommate. She was told,
they didn't have the room to keep the room private. --Even though
she had been promised a private room by the man that ran this unholy
unit! My daughter has a form of autism called Asperger's Syndrome.
Most times she deals with life like anyone else, but she is not
comfortable with people she doesn't know or new situations. Privacy
is a very important thing. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is
the way both she and Meg have been all their life. In stressful situations she is able to remain calm as long as she has a place she
feels safe. That is the purpose of her having a private room. You
would think that the head of mental health at this hospital would
understand about Asperger's since it is fairly prevalent, but he didn't seem to understand at all. The things he saw as depression and
anxiety are common to Asperger's. He thought she needed to be more
independent and was trying to force that, but didn't take any notice
that promises being kept are even more important than being
'independent'. He didn't understand that people with any form of
autism can go into sensory overload from loud noises and new places.
And believe me the psych ward is full of the wrong kind of sensory input! He didn't take into account that she was independent enough to
work 25-30 hours a week and go to college classes twenty hours a
week-- including clinicals! He was convinced she would be better
being there. Instead that morning she was close to a panic attack or
seizure because of being thrown in there without consideration to how
she would deal with this! </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thank
goodness we had worked with biofeedback years before to help her
handle herself no matter what was thrown at her. (Boy was this proof that we had done the right thing all those years ago!) She had learned to
calm her brain down. In fact she is amazing even when she has a
panic attack. If you give her some quiet and some space she can
bring herself back under control and then go on with her day. A seizure is a little more difficult, but she still is
able to calm things... This is not enough of a space to explain
fully, but I will leave it at-- she is amazing. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In
this case, that pad of paper came in handy! She spent time writing poetry and doodling to keep her calm. Then they added the roommate. Thank goodness I got there right after,
because, if not, she may have lost it. She laughed after she was out
and said “I knew if I had a panic attack they would want to keep
me, so I kept coaching myself, telling myself, 'I can't loose it. I
have to keep it together.' ” You know in the whole messed up
situation, when she told me that it made me so proud of her. She is
such a trouper! I really wish that psychiatrist could have seen
that!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While
I was there a different man, a therapist, called us back to a room.
And he listened. He was another light in this dark place, and part
of the reason things began to get better. He understood when we told
him we had had a counseling appointment already set up. He actually
understood Asperger's and why this place was so bad for her. By the
end of talking to him, though he didn't have the power to release
her, he promised to talk to the psychiatrist. He said out loud he didn't see why she had been forced to be there. He also brought her
lunch into a private room where she could eat and we could talk
without dealing with all the commotion in the common room. That gave
my daughter over a half hour to begin to repair so she could face
whatever would come.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I left
after hugging her again. This time she was more calm. We had hope
that she would be released. After I left the student doctors came to
talk to her, but that was when the patient advocate came too, so she
missed visiting with her. Good thing though-- they, along with the
nurses, and the therapist, all pleaded her case to the psychiatrist.
Who finally relented. At around 2 in the afternoon, my daughter
called me and told me she was going to be released in about an hour.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her
last meeting was with the psychiatrist. Who said... “Even though it seems like this was a control issue, it really wasn't.” I say—<b>Whatever
helps you sleep at night buddy!</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGrQqWfl-O3OXlsMUvRV0pUZxLWSVlhyphenhypheneb_HWrpr_k4wgnh4xtOUrc9SRxkOnYrSR2FBAx_ZQHOqhDnwXL69Fod6NNXNechRj1cOTEB-rp0ETAuT0bNeofQBVzd1O918m9zDu8O8TU4s/s1600/peaceful+person+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGrQqWfl-O3OXlsMUvRV0pUZxLWSVlhyphenhypheneb_HWrpr_k4wgnh4xtOUrc9SRxkOnYrSR2FBAx_ZQHOqhDnwXL69Fod6NNXNechRj1cOTEB-rp0ETAuT0bNeofQBVzd1O918m9zDu8O8TU4s/s320/peaceful+person+picture.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My
daughter's experience also has happened to others. From the posts
I've read this seems to be happening at different hospitals across the country in all different people groups. The hospital my daughter
was at has been sued several times for the same thing she went
through. Meg did some research, and found several different scenarios that sounded eerily like what happened to my daughter. Others have
done what I have here. I almost cried as I read their stories. It
was hard to hear that it isn't just my child, and it isn't just here
in the QC. So now you know our story. Please listen. If you have
the power to change these situations-- do so. If you are an ordinary person, then please be aware. Because honestly, parents of
a three year old have gone through the same thing. A woman giving
birth has gone through the same thing. Many others have gone through
the same thing. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Don't
tell me the doctors know best because I don't believe it anymore.
They broke my daughter's trust and my own. Thank goodness there were
a few shining lights that did care or it could have been worse. If
you are in the medical field, please play the part of the shining
light. She could have used so much more light!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It has
been three weeks now since my daughter was released from the
hospital, and I am starting to calm down. Life has gone back close
to normal. I don't see any way I am getting anywhere close to a
hospital any time soon. Doctors now freak out our whole family a
little. My daughter has said, she really has to think about her
choice of career. She was in classes planning on going into the
medical field. For now that is on hold. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFGmtwX0Hf7W2qy0AK4438z2LHBtN4IcK3woHYtPpIqsrioR47f1BUbJZvJfqEcQbvYNuluexq-6mHqlaHtTWdlWzKXV8R5ZSb2DbbN3SYea_mOV_xWriy_2H5FEhdWfIHvF8ZTisrhw/s1600/peaceful+ending.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFGmtwX0Hf7W2qy0AK4438z2LHBtN4IcK3woHYtPpIqsrioR47f1BUbJZvJfqEcQbvYNuluexq-6mHqlaHtTWdlWzKXV8R5ZSb2DbbN3SYea_mOV_xWriy_2H5FEhdWfIHvF8ZTisrhw/s200/peaceful+ending.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now we are trying to regain peace.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Any
kind of plan was never talked about in the psych ward. That
definitely did not constitute a break either! Her anxiety tripled
while there. She still isn't depressed, though she is now wondering
if she has Post Traumatic Stress because of what happened in the
hospital. She is working on ideas for a plan. School is on hold,
but that had more to do with seeing the way things were done while in
the hospital. She loves her counselor (the one I wanted to take her
to on Wednesday), and feels safe talking to her. She has the option
of having me there or not. That is up to her. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGRi8Dht3Chv3YKSSZq42ao6_R5oP4Ps7Gv0oLCB4b0_Y0DfH_es6CjvILDeXFMj-umgkZ03lUORNFco4JFTOgMrt7V0zMdW54IXQyzQ6GPiAwzF1ERT0CwUzbW_SojMowAJP9BG-73o/s1600/yoga+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGRi8Dht3Chv3YKSSZq42ao6_R5oP4Ps7Gv0oLCB4b0_Y0DfH_es6CjvILDeXFMj-umgkZ03lUORNFco4JFTOgMrt7V0zMdW54IXQyzQ6GPiAwzF1ERT0CwUzbW_SojMowAJP9BG-73o/s200/yoga+picture.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She has begun doing
yoga for stress relief-- that idea came from the patient advocate and
Meg. She is working and smiles a lot. Her boyfriend is thinking
about learning some kind of alternative healing. He is also
considering switching schools to be closer, but I am letting the two
of them decide how they want to go about things. We are all healing
from that Monday through Thursday hospital stay. Though, honestly it
is something that none of us will ever forget, it has redefined us in
ways we can't even tell you yet. I truly hope that me posting this
will give voice for others that have gone through this, and hopefully
leave everyone else a little wiser so they don't ever have to go to
the place we have been.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-11187667156255635862015-10-16T15:10:00.000-05:002015-10-16T15:10:32.987-05:00Hostage Situation? You Decide. Part 3<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here is the third part, and it is just about Wednesday. If you haven't read part 2 this might be a bit confusing. Here is the link to part 2-- http://writingcattales.blogspot.com/2015/10/hostage-situation-you-decide-part-2.html I would highly suggest reading part 2 before reading part 3 if you haven't.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wednesday
was a doosey! </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9Z7X_X5vUnq5jxSk8Q4x-hRPB8jdqDzEX5Bv1yPNgIZNfSUFw4WkciiEnG4lEd97mkO498HH93zJGJqaSEU0bkZQjOyk7Jd6vFU1Fo02f6LqMB7vcM5Yvui_BEWhmBlGyYnb1aM4stY/s1600/doctor+and+patient.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9Z7X_X5vUnq5jxSk8Q4x-hRPB8jdqDzEX5Bv1yPNgIZNfSUFw4WkciiEnG4lEd97mkO498HH93zJGJqaSEU0bkZQjOyk7Jd6vFU1Fo02f6LqMB7vcM5Yvui_BEWhmBlGyYnb1aM4stY/s320/doctor+and+patient.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Since 8 the night before my daughter wasn't checked again
until morning. The I.V. was still in but barely dripping. In fact from the night before until that morning the level of the fluids in the bag had not changed.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After what happened the night
before, both my daughter and I realized the day was not going to go
as we wanted. My daughter's boyfriend was tense. I was tense. My
husband was on alert. Meg was warning me... “This has happened to
others, Mom. Be careful.” So we waited.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the
meantime both Meg and my daughter's boyfriend did some research and
found cases where patients had been forced against their will to go
to the psych ward and had sued this hospital. Some of those cases
had been substantiated. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The psychiatrist came in around 9. He was insistent that she be admitted
to the psych ward. I was not comfortable. We talked back and forth,
but it was not going well. Neither my daughter nor I felt comfortable
at all. At this point we didn't know this was going to be a forced
issue. We didn't know the lies we would be told, and how bad it
would get.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After
he left --about a half hour later, I called and scheduled an
appointment with our counselor for 1:00 pm. Surely that would take
care of this.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At 10
he still was not back. I finally went to talk to the nurse asking
when my daughter was going to be released around 11, explaining we
had made an appointment with our counselor. A few moments later the psychiatrist was back. His opinion had not changed and it was becoming more
apparent he was willing to force us to do things his way, even if we
didn't agree.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Why
can't she see our counselor? Or why can't we do this outpatient?”
I was asking these questions trying to understand what the problem
was.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It
will only be for twenty-four hours. She will have a private room.
Just to keep a watch on her.” He spoke as if to pacify, but not at
first answering me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She
does not like strange places and situations. She wasn't trying to
commit suicide and she doesn't want to hurt herself, so why is this
so urgent? I am her mother, why do you need to keep a watch on her?
She needs to figure out what she is going to do. She has an
appointment at 1 pm with our counselor...” This was me again.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well
we agreed she needs a break...” The psychiatrist again.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes,
but being here for another 24 hours is not a break...” Me speaking
up once more.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
work off a plan, and I need a plan. That is what I need to figure out
now...” My daughter spoke up for herself, calmly explaining one of
her objections.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well
you need to slow down...” We all agreed on this but that also
included a plan of how to do that.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What
would you do if you were home instead of here?” This question felt
like a trap. He was insistent she needed to slow down, and yet kept
flipping into that she needed a plan and he didn't seem to understand
those went together. So no matter what she would say he would jump.
My daughter told me later, she didn't know what to say. Would she
say she would go to class? Would she talk about the appointment we
set up? Or going home to get a little sleep because of the tension
within the hospital?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I might take a nap, and then when I woke up I would sit down with my
mom and begin to talk about what happened and start to...” This is
what she decided to say. It didn't go over well. He interrupted her
before she could finish.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Talk...
You have no plan. See we could help you figure out a plan.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Why
is her talking to me and our counselor not as good as being here?
That would give her a chance to figure out what she wants to do from
here.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well
when would you have her at the counselor?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEo2BLYIfvIXNXZSrnBGoxwSL3u7gt89sn-E6IrEhe0wRCoYICWvOS1UTUax-TbDfhRzib7g07aLA9gWaGX6VSHJzHW0yp1JZMWa20bOco7vRN1REu8y8Gahl8PYG0jMnvaJKlBITxSns/s1600/counseling+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEo2BLYIfvIXNXZSrnBGoxwSL3u7gt89sn-E6IrEhe0wRCoYICWvOS1UTUax-TbDfhRzib7g07aLA9gWaGX6VSHJzHW0yp1JZMWa20bOco7vRN1REu8y8Gahl8PYG0jMnvaJKlBITxSns/s320/counseling+1.jpg" width="320" /></a>“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today.
We have an appointment already set up. We had an appointment for
Monday, but then she was in here and we had to cancel that one. I've
been in touch with our counselor every day that she has been here.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But
she hasn't seen her before...”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No,
but I have and my older daughter has, and our counselor has agreed to
see her already. She has never met your people either. At least she
knows I know this counselor and if she wants me there I will be
there.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well
if she could come here...”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
can call her...” This was me. I knew our counselor would come there in a heartbeat. She had altered her day on Monday to be able to see my daughter on her day off.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well
do.” I picked up the phone and talked to the office for our
counselor and he talked to the receptionist and gave him a number for
our counselor to call him. For right then the argument stopped. He
also talked to my husband, who thought it would help him if he knew
we had the appointment and maybe coming to the room would be good and
help him calm down.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">An
hour later, there still was no resolution. He refused to talk to our
counselor about any of the circumstances, even though we had given
him permission. Lied to our counselor and told her he hadn't
understood that our daughter hadn't seen her before. She offered to
come there to the hospital, but he told her his people could take
care of things and she couldn't be involved. I know that because our
counselor called me trying to figure out what was going on.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the
mean time I was lied to, and told that since the counselor hadn't seen
our daughter before she thought it better she be admitted to the
psych ward and let the psychiatrist handle it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
called her back and told her what was said, and she suggested getting
an advocate involved and talking to the head of mental health.
Little did we know at this point that the psychiatrist was the head of
mental health.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After
talking to her, I called my husband and told him I needed his help.
I felt over my head, but I would be damned if I was going to leave my
daughter there now after realizing how many lies we were told and how
much this was looking more and more like being a hostage rather than
a patient. What would they do? Especially if I left her alone even
for a little while?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Somewhere
in here we were advised by the head of the ICU and the psychiatrist
that my daughter had two choices. Either my daughter voluntarily commit herself and they promised she would be out in 24 hours, or
they force the issue and she would stay there until a court hearing.
My daughter was told by the doctors this could take weeks-- another
lie. We found out later that the longest they could hold her was
five days. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDAI979sUcm6zqJl-fVsKP9evoghsIvE4ckTbVR08ejRpraWfhhHgWpXOBvj_6voeodztrBuzKX0LVpVidJnARjgL2ecQihVwEeqWKZi0DKEYRnfw9HjFnVi38_nNebU5yb5JI6uaixs/s1600/hospital+iv+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDAI979sUcm6zqJl-fVsKP9evoghsIvE4ckTbVR08ejRpraWfhhHgWpXOBvj_6voeodztrBuzKX0LVpVidJnARjgL2ecQihVwEeqWKZi0DKEYRnfw9HjFnVi38_nNebU5yb5JI6uaixs/s320/hospital+iv+2.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On top
of that the I.V. was still in even though both the head of ICU and
the other doctor that had seen her agreed she was medically sound.
Still, they kept her things and refused to take out the I.V. in order
to keep her hostage.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There
was a third visit that day with the psychiatrist, the head of ICU, a
nurse, and two other women I later learned were student doctors. I
spoke up for my daughter as she asked me to, and the psychiatrist
accused me of not letting her speak. He asked me why was I trying to
control my daughter. At that point, in a strong clear voice my
daughter spoke up and told the doctors that she had asked me to speak
for her and I was saying what she wanted me to say. Nothing got any
better, and so Todd came to the hospital asked to speak to the head
doctors and administration. He asked for a patient advocate for our
daughter and tried to sort out what was going on and why.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYTdi5kG-wHAiLeTvgU56fRY-dEYlVvZkhz74zZ4FvekYwjNqJUjQ7p1jEEGr6VPzpmUqdgSSvMmXXzrsBcnA9DTQoq4FUywAfgwxjE7htl9bEsYgHccBfsYtqNAxlYSyv0DG1OIPvHQ/s1600/woman-crying+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYTdi5kG-wHAiLeTvgU56fRY-dEYlVvZkhz74zZ4FvekYwjNqJUjQ7p1jEEGr6VPzpmUqdgSSvMmXXzrsBcnA9DTQoq4FUywAfgwxjE7htl9bEsYgHccBfsYtqNAxlYSyv0DG1OIPvHQ/s320/woman-crying+1.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My
husband was told I had lied to the psychiatrist and that I was
over-controlling. They said they already had papers written up to
force our daughter into the psych ward, but it would go better if our
daughter voluntarily signed papers. Otherwise it wouldn't go so
well. My husband said, he thought the psychiatrist would have
almost backed down, but the head of ICU was adamant that my daughter
was suicidal and needed to be in the psych ward and she was not
backing down. The other doctor that saw my daughter Tuesday was
there, but didn't say much. He was the one that wanted to release
her Wednesday morning.</span> </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My
husband requested a patient advocate, and the advocate went to visit
with our daughter. The advocate spent about an hour talking with my
daughter, and listening to her. My daughter told her what the last
few days had been like. She told her about the problems, and about
her fears. She told her how she had been treated.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvzKUjPK5WkT1-g4fXtkJxp7Mqt3bq7wUPcW87jDry4Js-3FFDd_dLDpB6VZJERkPQr2sWGY1sBM_rZvXfeD-SFsi1za5LqYyS6Xtt3Dvi5KViptagyF9n1U2dHCZg4h7qnf9CfwDUjqM/s1600/shaft+of+light+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvzKUjPK5WkT1-g4fXtkJxp7Mqt3bq7wUPcW87jDry4Js-3FFDd_dLDpB6VZJERkPQr2sWGY1sBM_rZvXfeD-SFsi1za5LqYyS6Xtt3Dvi5KViptagyF9n1U2dHCZg4h7qnf9CfwDUjqM/s320/shaft+of+light+2.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My daughter said
that day, and in the days since that the advocate was like a shaft of
light in a very dark space. Within five minutes of leaving a nurse
was in the room with a fresh gown, a comb, a toothbrush, and a set of
cleaning wipes for the first time since Monday-- by this time it was
about 5 pm on Wednesday. That is when I came back into her room.
She was actually smiling a little. She spent a half hour telling me
about the patient advocate and what they talked about. When I had
traded places with my husband an hour and half earlier my daughter
was in tears. One person can make such a huge difference. Someone
simply sitting down, listening, and doing what they can to make sure
a person has what they need shows a person dignity. That was
something my daughter wasn't shown much of Monday or Tuesday or most
of Wednesday.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As
soon as my daughter agreed on voluntarily going to the psych ward they
took out the I.V. . At 6 p.m. She was released from ICU and taken to
the psych ward by a security guard. Meg and I went with her, and this
began the most frightening part of the story, but also the shortest.
I will talk about this in the next part. Wednesday was much more to take in and seemed to last forever compared to Monday or Tuesday. The time in the psych ward was frightening and unneeded. It didn't give her a break or help her make a plan. It did make her jumpy and give her nightmares though. More on that in the next part.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-36306460282575533092015-10-09T20:53:00.000-05:002015-10-09T20:53:46.592-05:00Hostage Situation? You decide. Part 2<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This
is just the beginning of my daughter's story. I thought I would be
able to do this in 3 posts, but it looks as if it is going to be 4
posts. So here is number 2.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXDQXGeiBBDwGJz4y9vtvnxn5h5O2h0sbAQhADwvGPJwDRzgrWw6euYXAicwbGp2MTrt_5MHO8LxiuYf2LDp2h_QlcyIQllAnbS600wm169MsKl1TO30FmvMBaqf2gR02proM_qo-0Fg/s1600/patient+in+psych.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXDQXGeiBBDwGJz4y9vtvnxn5h5O2h0sbAQhADwvGPJwDRzgrWw6euYXAicwbGp2MTrt_5MHO8LxiuYf2LDp2h_QlcyIQllAnbS600wm169MsKl1TO30FmvMBaqf2gR02proM_qo-0Fg/s200/patient+in+psych.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My
daughter has asked me not to use her name, nor to give too many identifying details because she is very sensitive to what happened,
and she is still deciding how she plans to handle this situation.
Personally I would really consider suing if it was up to me, but as
much as this has effected her I will be glad to get her to file a
complaint.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I took
my daughter to the ER on Monday at 1:30 pm, she was admitted to ICU
at around 8:00 pm that evening until 6:00 pm on Wednesday night when
she was transferred to the psych ward until a little before 4:00 pm
on Thursday. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Was
she crazy? <b>No.</b> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Had
she attempted suicide? <b>No.</b> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Was
she suicidal? <b>No.</b> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Was
she a threat to anyone? <b>No.</b> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Did we
think she needed to be in the psych ward? <b>No.</b> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Did
most of the nurses, student doctors, and one of the therapists in the
psych ward think she should be there? <b>No.</b> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Did
the counselor that has worked with our family think she should be
there? <b>No.</b> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
head psychiatrist was sure convinced of all the above. He was
convinced he would show her it was in her best interest to be there.
</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He
never did convince anyone of that, except maybe himself and perhaps
the head of the ICU that only saw her once and was convinced we were
taking everything too lightly. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDd_zMDseMjxRQrP1ahk-khDAvQzl0WcPPITkGD_AiwTqzek6V3NLHuuw4bkLKCi2cArd-cicv4z0gEVna2eiTsqLkB0xp66VJh7zegXsY9t9Eg3hKzSt98V3Jy-OCWBj3Ot-IU9TKDYw/s1600/spilled+purse+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDd_zMDseMjxRQrP1ahk-khDAvQzl0WcPPITkGD_AiwTqzek6V3NLHuuw4bkLKCi2cArd-cicv4z0gEVna2eiTsqLkB0xp66VJh7zegXsY9t9Eg3hKzSt98V3Jy-OCWBj3Ot-IU9TKDYw/s320/spilled+purse+2.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When
she was admitted to the hospital, all the things (her purse, the
things in it, her clothing, and her shoes) she brought with her were
taken and locked away from her including her phone. A security guard
was posted at her door. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When
she was moved to ICU, even with me staying there, they posted a
person in the room for the first 24 hours at all times. She was not
even allowed to close the bathroom door while she was in there. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She
complied with all this, whatever treatment they suggested she
complied. Not once did she argue or raise her voice. She did cry
when they took her phone because she and her boyfriend talk a lot on
the phone since he lives 4 hours away. I was there to calm her down
and hand her my phone to talk to him. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">From
Monday to Wednesday she was not offered a change of hospital gown,
but she was not allowed to wear her own clothing either. She wore
the same underwear for three days! </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She
has long hair, and she was not offered a brush or comb, yet I could
not bring her anything either-- even if I would have dared to leave.
</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She
was not even offered a bed bath to cleanse herself. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In two
and half days she was not offered a simple toothbrush. They had a
sign in the room that they were suppose to make sure that patients
brushed their teeth twice a day! </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In all
the time she was in ICU the sheets on the bed were not changed.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgMAbYy2o_PUcQ1tu1NiFOpLnyr6OgPM3qlnpn-i9VTVG2QwBdcKJpMsTaezXpupN_YUOj3uRKuV4K62WGu62wstGI1k0fr4yL3y6MmYjnLzVUvZimX0e0h9IRlQ8zk3uQsa4uKw3b-Y/s1600/hospital+food+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgMAbYy2o_PUcQ1tu1NiFOpLnyr6OgPM3qlnpn-i9VTVG2QwBdcKJpMsTaezXpupN_YUOj3uRKuV4K62WGu62wstGI1k0fr4yL3y6MmYjnLzVUvZimX0e0h9IRlQ8zk3uQsa4uKw3b-Y/s200/hospital+food+1.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She
has a special diet because of allergies and foods that she is
sensitive to. They had that she was gluten intolerant in her chart,
but they didn't ask about any food needs nor preferences beyond the
gluten intolerance, nor did they give her any kind of menu. Here's
an example-- She can't eat apples. They make her sick to her stomach
and sometimes cause her to throw up. Three times they brought an
apple and apple juice. She doesn't eat rice for the most part. Each
meal was served with rice. She doesn't drink milk, every meal came
with milk. I wasn't suppose to bring her food, but meals were just
served and many things they gave her to eat-- she couldn't. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
nurses thank goodness didn't watch that closely. So finally Tuesday
night, my husband brought food for her because the choices she had
were ridiculous.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then
there were other things... When she was about to use the shared
bathroom. I opened the door to see blood on the seat and floor from
the other patient... That one I called the nurse on.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The psychiatrist saw her first on Tuesday morning. He was convinced she
had some depression. He talked about starting her on medicine. Mind
you my daughter has pretty severe chemical allergies and really is
not comfortable taking an anti-anxiety or depression medicine. He
pretty much minimized that as if it didn't matter though he could
look at her allergy record and see if he had taken the time. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This
is the girl that has a medical exemption because she turned blue and
stopped breathing from vaccinations. This is the girl that a
medicine to combat her allergies left her unable to walk and talk at 8. It took us three months to help her recover from that reaction.
This is the girl that when she tried asthma medications it made her
lungs spasm almost continuously. Do we really want to try a
medicine for a problem we don't even agree she has?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Though
she has panic attacks sometimes, they have never caused her a
problem. Beyond that, anyone that actually knows her would never
think she had any kind of depression. She literally has no symptoms
of depression. She is almost always easy going with just as easy of
smile. She is one of those people you like being around just because
they see life as sunny. She is soft spoken, but she knows her path--
Well she did until this hospital stay! She has so many things she is
looking forward to-- a job she enjoys, and a boyfriend that is her
best friend. To top it off eventually they are planning to get
married. Does this sound like depression to you? It doesn't to me,
and my daughter said she didn't feel depressed.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVd5hlu4A-qCmy7r6JkU7RRUJe1K_8w0nII3CC9O6e7yGo6oO-i0Js2ayG8tfVSTcr87NAifRJSbdyQLyVcBbCqFpMo_GaT8Y3UI5hhqgIAwRN9ITj8jIcnW0PCsdI5TW5_2Z6CUrfg4/s1600/hospital+IV+bag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVd5hlu4A-qCmy7r6JkU7RRUJe1K_8w0nII3CC9O6e7yGo6oO-i0Js2ayG8tfVSTcr87NAifRJSbdyQLyVcBbCqFpMo_GaT8Y3UI5hhqgIAwRN9ITj8jIcnW0PCsdI5TW5_2Z6CUrfg4/s320/hospital+IV+bag.jpg" width="212" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This
is where he first talked about admitting her to the psych ward. This
is where he felt like she and I were taking this to lightly. She nor
I agreed with the meds or admitting her. We told him so, and he said
he would return in a couple hours and we could talk about it some
more. Later another doctor came in and talked about releasing her
Wednesday morning. He was pretty much ready to take her off the I.V.
and just wanted to monitor overnight because she was still having
some dizziness. The I.V. drip was going about every thirty seconds--
if that. It should have been taken out. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was
left in. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The psychiatrist never came back that day. The rest of the day the nurses
checked on her about every 4 hours. Her blood work showed everything
was back to normal. So we hoped that maybe they would release her
Wednesday morning.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At
around 8:00 pm the nurse came in and told us they were ready for her
to go to the psych ward. My daughter and I told her that the psychiatrist said he would be back, and we hadn't agreed to any action
yet. She left the room quickly and gave him a call and a little
while later came back and told us he would be back early in the
morning.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then
Wednesday came around...</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And Wednesday is going to be part 3. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-9194649374326879802015-10-07T04:00:00.000-05:002015-10-07T04:00:53.327-05:00Review of Incurable by E.C. Moore<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyaH6lmuJteRpBnBCuqGe12Y-RZsIttytythE9c10bEotDGrbhxOxQlImdpKhqPNceMA4LQBSvO6Pq3ElDgkjQrn_2rVS6DxbpAWDsf8Fb8BkvpGBWTv9y2Ae4-PyvIt4fz0c-ukKGZs/s1600/riverside+california.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyaH6lmuJteRpBnBCuqGe12Y-RZsIttytythE9c10bEotDGrbhxOxQlImdpKhqPNceMA4LQBSvO6Pq3ElDgkjQrn_2rVS6DxbpAWDsf8Fb8BkvpGBWTv9y2Ae4-PyvIt4fz0c-ukKGZs/s320/riverside+california.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evening view of Riverside, California<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As a child I was raised in Riverside, California. With my grandparents I traveled all over the state and saw most of the sights. My dad was like a tour guide, and so I saw more and learned why my family loved Southern California so much. Then at 21 I moved to the Midwest. I only get back to the land of my childhood every few years, for 2-3 weeks. So when I saw Incurable, and that it was <br />
set in my childhood home state. I grabbed the chance to read it. I wasn't disappointed. Below is my review. Hope you enjoy it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Review
of Incurable by E.C. Moore</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhakE5fSXOzxsdBUa7v9Nd0k88Z6PNWwioBNWw4Yr_mrznW7C8XoYElkzdZ5wlTxHqEUb5ufHDiWBUSPnuFSZcTKazv7qvM1g2vCmJQ5nAZ9nPiJTFJIXa1YHzF5Ok2YUUgKq-Q3_7WyN0/s1600/california+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhakE5fSXOzxsdBUa7v9Nd0k88Z6PNWwioBNWw4Yr_mrznW7C8XoYElkzdZ5wlTxHqEUb5ufHDiWBUSPnuFSZcTKazv7qvM1g2vCmJQ5nAZ9nPiJTFJIXa1YHzF5Ok2YUUgKq-Q3_7WyN0/s320/california+1.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Incurable
is set for the most part in Southern California. Which along with
the description was what made me feel as if I needed to read it-- I
was raised in Sunny Cali and have some fond memories of the places
mentioned in the story. This was definitely the most different story
that I have read! And not different bad! I would have to call it
dramatic historical fiction-- not romance, although there were some
romantic elements at times. If you like World War II era settings,
you'll like Incurable. It sets up the war, and also lets you view
the world after the recovery from the war.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDok0mFXWPgoR0Qm83bTatKSOqYwK7JQiGUy_1KWt96ryhb3J_a6Kso1srGyzYE6bNsQOnvXRX63keUpQib7gMeyNSWYXMBMBAwiBvXoZjw5JRW1sHWYzeGQS_davM6NS4dbd6q168g3E/s1600/california+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDok0mFXWPgoR0Qm83bTatKSOqYwK7JQiGUy_1KWt96ryhb3J_a6Kso1srGyzYE6bNsQOnvXRX63keUpQib7gMeyNSWYXMBMBAwiBvXoZjw5JRW1sHWYzeGQS_davM6NS4dbd6q168g3E/s1600/california+2.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">It
is the story of two friends Marilyn (Beryl) and June. The story is
set during the 30s, 40s, and 50s. Each decade had its own theme and
the author definitely makes use of those themes and really made me
think about how much the world was changing in each perspective
period. As you read, you are reading between two times, both present
time (for the story) which is mid-50s, and the past. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Two
beautiful teenage girls decide to leave Detroit, and go to Hollywood.
You can imagine the reasons, and you better guess it doesn't turn out
the way they are planning. For Marilyn it is even worse than you can
imagine. For June, you are never quite sure how it really is.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">June
is outgoing and could do almost anything. She does do all kinds of
things too! </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSTsembCA8nk2sBbRcOz4GapMx_L-lJD5ok7i1unC16FXKl11udjerx5ILIU_SrZIHAyFUn6UCpTm8TE3Ul627uG6U2XddwdFVxKMFem3Murw3pS_qdN_15GvGOkYIYFilomKrwzYDxh8/s1600/california+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSTsembCA8nk2sBbRcOz4GapMx_L-lJD5ok7i1unC16FXKl11udjerx5ILIU_SrZIHAyFUn6UCpTm8TE3Ul627uG6U2XddwdFVxKMFem3Murw3pS_qdN_15GvGOkYIYFilomKrwzYDxh8/s320/california+3.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Marilyn's
more reserved, and though she is at first looking for fame, she finds
another path she almost follows before she is pulled in by June on
another hair-brained adventure and then another. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Devastation ensues
until she finally finds a way out, and as things are looking up,
sorrow shows up once more.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Incurable
was fun and heart-wrenching at the same time. It was fun because most
of the places I knew, and that was really a thrill after living in
the Midwest for close to 25 years. But it was heart-wrenching because
of the scenes that the two young women go through. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The
story is an awesome tale of friendship, destruction, betrayal,
recovery, and healing. It never lulls, and always keeps you trying
to guess. The writing is very good, and everything holds together
nicely. It was not quite a book I could read in a night (my
favorite), but I did read it in two days. Finally it left me with
all the questions answered and also with a good ending. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
If you would like to read it, here is the link to Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Incurable-E-C-Moore-ebook/dp/B012EJJ4KG</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-15214335304318098532015-10-03T15:14:00.001-05:002015-10-03T15:14:41.178-05:00Hostage Situation? You decide. Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHj-ibsYWNbPJP_zB-4IopzNDw3SN7TuUIpnnJc9E7Klhaakd7EYlqg3Ot-PMXm5Cy_Xyr9eDjwQLjeZXexZ4TnuBnD-fDy_3zDmR9BKOIdW-yxLUd6W5oH4tB2h1fKUy5_HB34UycCA/s1600/mother-and-daughter-artist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHj-ibsYWNbPJP_zB-4IopzNDw3SN7TuUIpnnJc9E7Klhaakd7EYlqg3Ot-PMXm5Cy_Xyr9eDjwQLjeZXexZ4TnuBnD-fDy_3zDmR9BKOIdW-yxLUd6W5oH4tB2h1fKUy5_HB34UycCA/s320/mother-and-daughter-artist.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if your sensitive, gentle, eighteen year old daughter was forced to
endure three and half days of harsh treatment with no dignity, and
very few people that cared about what was going on, or even making
sure she had clean clothes, a toothbrush, or a way to bathe herself?
</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if they brought her food, but didn't even ask if there was anything
she would like to eat, and only took into account one of her
allergies so she couldn't eat part of the meal she was given, and the
rest made her pretty sick because she was use to a diet quite
different? </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if you were there with her, and tried to explain the circumstances
that brought her there, but you were only half listened to and then
lied to? </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if because they only listened to part of what you said they twisted
the story and made assumptions then told others the lies they believed
and accused you of lying?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if these people were judgmental and demanding of their own ways even
though they went against the ways your family has worked?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVGUpZLbG6fa4TJktycn5NHxFWhmgzQxSI8Nl3bSw3q-xWIjB0qN4nf9wYHK0mXvZmMWoSC_OXWqAzoum92fwtAouH463pr0DKfnO24uxYcvOm7Xt3nZsLOdsMJlYr7sn4ZVXJfFabkAU/s1600/nurse+iv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVGUpZLbG6fa4TJktycn5NHxFWhmgzQxSI8Nl3bSw3q-xWIjB0qN4nf9wYHK0mXvZmMWoSC_OXWqAzoum92fwtAouH463pr0DKfnO24uxYcvOm7Xt3nZsLOdsMJlYr7sn4ZVXJfFabkAU/s320/nurse+iv.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if this place was a hospital that was suppose to be doing good? </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if the people were well respected doctors and nurses?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if you tried to reason with them, but were told you should not speak
up for your daughter even though she had asked you to? </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if they accused you of being a controlling parent and your daughter
was told she needed to be more independent? </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if they frightened your daughter worse than she's ever been
frightened before? </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if they would not let your daughter leave?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if they moved her into another part of the hospital where you could
only see her for a couple hours of the day? </span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4PkOwmp5uWkWQ07KU8MFeZ8SIaWrJGpIIBsAeGojTj9q8YuA8hSE4NRj-DOgmn7N1z5v-wPzYJDUK1DLNikkMsIWciMrSY8mPl2n5vZXNvC2vxMqRnceC16faO9jyxn_UuVbSX-kHX6w/s1600/hospital.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4PkOwmp5uWkWQ07KU8MFeZ8SIaWrJGpIIBsAeGojTj9q8YuA8hSE4NRj-DOgmn7N1z5v-wPzYJDUK1DLNikkMsIWciMrSY8mPl2n5vZXNvC2vxMqRnceC16faO9jyxn_UuVbSX-kHX6w/s1600/hospital.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if that was a place where she was afraid for her safety and when you
came to see her she was crying and shaking because of the experience?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>---Hey
this would be a great plot beginning for a novel! Maybe a thriller
of some kind? </i></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-What
if this is a real life experience?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">----Does
that make it alright? Would you be alright with this if it were you?
What about your daughter? What about your loved one? Does it even matter who it is? Should anyone be treat this way?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Because
you know what? </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>It
was real life.</b></i> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwDj_4GOl9k5FrcBleOJmaes44ZRzYOgn_xvOyRS9FGza8nNwS-DO1hBqE8SPFfgnFSDGF3MN6mickP3-D91oAz6B8RgCDzHkEm929P-UYFgPMoVllfbvVc8JrJBxY-HoHPk2sjY13uzU/s1600/IMG_20140815_153929709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwDj_4GOl9k5FrcBleOJmaes44ZRzYOgn_xvOyRS9FGza8nNwS-DO1hBqE8SPFfgnFSDGF3MN6mickP3-D91oAz6B8RgCDzHkEm929P-UYFgPMoVllfbvVc8JrJBxY-HoHPk2sjY13uzU/s320/IMG_20140815_153929709.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two of my daughters-- Hope & Meg<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-It
happened to my daughter, and I was the mom in this hypothetical.
Everything I said above did happen from Monday to Thursday of this
week. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-This
is part 1 of a series of blogs I plan to post. In part 2 I will go
into more details. We are still shaking off the fear this instilled.
Even now as I write about it, my stomach is jumping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-41810070350976540072015-09-26T15:59:00.000-05:002015-09-26T15:59:42.138-05:00Review for Pretty Maidens All in a Row by J.M. Brown<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Usually I stick with romance (Christian mostly) of the historical or high suspense category or Amish stories, but I have to tell you I am glad I don't set hard and fast rules, because this was an excellent read... A dark, tense, intense read. So here is my review below:</span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Review of Pretty Maidens All in a Row</span></div>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCM_F6yuP9T_E3bK86uz2QvV_wKSmPC-lDUrP6ZM8M5wcApricG5DO7g6BWO_rlXh2kdXNGYhM216VpUTCniZcMYYuq_aXI03tcUjsl_cvND6wp_N2r423Y2YEd9k40ouTtFl4s5KW-0/s1600/bloody+knife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCM_F6yuP9T_E3bK86uz2QvV_wKSmPC-lDUrP6ZM8M5wcApricG5DO7g6BWO_rlXh2kdXNGYhM216VpUTCniZcMYYuq_aXI03tcUjsl_cvND6wp_N2r423Y2YEd9k40ouTtFl4s5KW-0/s1600/bloody+knife.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">J.M.
Brown built a frightening thriller. I say built because each step is
laid upon the other. The mind of Richard Reed is explored long
before he attacks. The delusion and deception is pure evil, and you
want to cringe as you read of his activities. You are along for the
ride as an unstable mind becomes twisted in a black upside down
world.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You
know he is going to attack. The process makes you want to scream.
You can see it happening, but can't stop it. He attacks and Mary
Elizabeth's life is forever marked. At the same time her very
survival afterward depends on Jack. In the story you will get to
know Jack Ashton. He's Mary Elizabeth's music teacher. Their lives
intersect through out the story.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just
as Mary Elizabeth's life truly recovers, strange things start
happening once more. Again that same slow process begins, and you're
left becoming more and more tense. This time you are wondering if it
is Richard Reed getting ready to pounce or someone new. And is he
going for Mary Elizabeth or Jack? Or both?</span><br />
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This
is a dark descending tale of a broken girl and the evil pursuer that
destroys all around her and anything like her just to let her know he
is coming. His sickness seeps into your skin and just can't be
shaken off.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It
was well written and I hated when I had to set it down. Usually I
read things that are light and airy. This was dark and dangerous.
It made me wonder about children who are abused and neglected-- if
they will grow to be threatening and menacing. Honestly, it haunted
me and when I wasn't reading it I was thinking about the story
wondering what would happen next. It is a longer book. So, as much
as I wanted to, I could not read it in one sitting. But it 's length
allowed the author to explore the story in a depth that is
frightening. The suspense and expectation is intense.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9CI6u8_imt8g5tNVGKP77fN8JTTL0r1oYNtdr1kUgidpn8ZjidWJsU2MqzNsvwyNq95Ls-iFMZdk-WwaaaiIXpsm3Lsx6MFqGQOSjwxVQs78cPgkFj8gwt8wlf7AxsAoyTcFv5iAhkM/s1600/two+friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9CI6u8_imt8g5tNVGKP77fN8JTTL0r1oYNtdr1kUgidpn8ZjidWJsU2MqzNsvwyNq95Ls-iFMZdk-WwaaaiIXpsm3Lsx6MFqGQOSjwxVQs78cPgkFj8gwt8wlf7AxsAoyTcFv5iAhkM/s200/two+friends.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I watched
Mary Elizabeth and Sally's near perfect life, and enjoyed it, but
also saw the dark one watching too. His plans were sinister and
whether he realized it or not, meant for evil. His darkness takes
over all the light and good. It was a suspenseful and all consuming
read. I would highly recommend it for those who love thrillers and
suspense. You won't be let down. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you would like to read Pretty Maidens All in a Row, here is the Amazon link for it: </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> http://www.amazon.com/Pretty-Maidens-Row-J-M-Brown-ebook/dp/B00T3T3P1A/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1443300570&sr=1-1&keywords=pretty+maidens+all+in+a+row</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2343243747680291065.post-54369965080774092992015-09-21T16:48:00.001-05:002015-09-21T16:48:44.526-05:00Review of The Ghost of You by Kristen Darling<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The Ghost of You really gets
you thinking how much impact parents have on their children even when
their children are adults.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Kaitlyn wants love, even
though, because of her childhood, she isn't sure what it looks like.
She feels fragile because of panic attacks that began when she was
still a teen, but she doesn't realize how strong she really is. Her
past haunts her, and her present haunts her, yet she doesn't succumb
to it. Each day she goes to work and she works at the relationship
issues that are around her. Thank goodness for her friends, who
treat her with love and kindness-- especially John and Chris.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtyvys3f0ZesavJgDIpIxpeGjw8BakQ3-thMLSi4_GbjtYlJCk6ddqTjNZmwDNDLQVsDuLk9Wd3658_6reTMf5-o6YjsJHdpq04UNRCI-5pH9hs0b2jwLdzdkkY6R7LLLynRi7aWRPs-k/s1600/upset+blonde.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtyvys3f0ZesavJgDIpIxpeGjw8BakQ3-thMLSi4_GbjtYlJCk6ddqTjNZmwDNDLQVsDuLk9Wd3658_6reTMf5-o6YjsJHdpq04UNRCI-5pH9hs0b2jwLdzdkkY6R7LLLynRi7aWRPs-k/s320/upset+blonde.jpg" width="292" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
This story is set in the
present, and fifteen years before that. It is about a broken woman
trying to make peace with 4 men. Her father, who she has no contact
with since she was a teen; David, her long time boyfriend, who isn't
exactly always the kindest to her; Luke, who is married but still
pursuing her; and Chris, who is always there standing up for her and
making her feel special and loved. It doesn't go the way you think
it will. Although you can see what she should do, that is not what
happens at any point. It is much more like real life than I would
like to admit. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Let's face it we live in a very fallen world, and
what we wish for Kaitlyn isn't exactly what happens. But watch out
for the ending... Complete surprise after you've given up all hope of
things going right!</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Honestly, at first I didn't
know what to think of this story, but it captivated me because it was
so home hitting. I cheered for Kaitlyn even as I watched her life
spiral. Chris was everything she needed, but she couldn't see it.
Luke evoked twisted sentiments when he pushed so hard then would turn
and be so kind. David just plain made me angry! --Until close to
the end when I finally could see his pain. And the alcoholic
father-- there wasn't any contact in the story with him, but still I
came close to hating him for what he made his family go through. I
understand alcoholism and what it can do to a family. I've watched
in my own family of origin as it tore apart family members and
created panic syndromes and other anxiety and depression disorders.
What Kaitlyn suffers I have seen and Kristen Darling really portrayed it
well in her writing. All together this story hit some of my own childhood baggage
and really tugged at my soul, so much so I wanted to put it down and
yet I kept reading because I was hoping there would be a good ending.
I was not disappointed.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
If you've had a traumatic
childhood, you will relate to this story in ways I can't even begin
to tell you! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjel18PbKZEBOUyVpI4rZ2DHcZ68GgQgoR-aGf-EaIIlLn6uRgq_oWsguJfnxhuMe1P25Ila4CBxUdBv59vIv3gVWd9rRB_36fgxh_4E_zyVIOTDlQ_b2Mxw-JFFaL6OtDO_Ae8aZLuYXY/s1600/trauma+lady+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjel18PbKZEBOUyVpI4rZ2DHcZ68GgQgoR-aGf-EaIIlLn6uRgq_oWsguJfnxhuMe1P25Ila4CBxUdBv59vIv3gVWd9rRB_36fgxh_4E_zyVIOTDlQ_b2Mxw-JFFaL6OtDO_Ae8aZLuYXY/s320/trauma+lady+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
If you haven't it is still a good story, though it will
lead you in depths that are sometimes hard to deal with. It is
passionate and dark at times, very filled with drama, but the love of
her friends lighten it up a bit. It is full of twists, not all good.<br />
<br />
If you would like to read this book, here is the link:<br />
<br />
http://www.amazon.com/The-Ghost-You-Kristen-Darling-ebook/dp/B013HDL1GS<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10024602563961397561noreply@blogger.com0