What a Weekend

I woke up at 5 a.m. Friday with what felt to me like maybe heartburn. Never had that, though. Pain got bad enough that I nearly threw up. 

Went to ER around 7. EKG ... chest X-ray ... blood work ... everything looked normal. But by then the pain was coming in waves. I could feel it coming on, intensifying, then vanishing. All in the absence of any doctor or nurse in the room at the time. 

 Finally a nurse and then a doctor saw what I was going through. But they still could not be sure: was it cardio or gastro? 

My body didn’t respond to morphine or nitro. It should have. But everyone is different. Lucky for me someone decided to try a drug usually prescribed for anxiety. No more pain. 

Subsequent blood tests began to show more and more of an enzyme associated with heart attacks. So they admitted me to the hospital for overnight observation. 

Imaging test the next day showed several severe blockages, and the doctor was ready with stents—four in all—which he immediately inserted, going up through my wrist to my heart. 

Took a long time, though, and I was getting claustrophobic toward the end. 

So glad it’s over now. Back home, feeling very good. Very blessed. 

Could use a beer, though that may not go well with all my new medications.

Ubiquitous

Great cappuccino at Caffe Nero, the Italian Coffee Co., which, it turns out, has locations all over London — like Starbucks in the States.  Served in real cups, with saucers, by the way.

Then a long stroll along Piccadilly with the wind nipping at our noses. Love all the old brick buildings. It's still early so nothing much is open. But there's lots of traffic — both cars and people.

The highlight of our walk is the garden outside St. James's Church (where there is another Caffe Nero).

Walking in Mayfair

London. Bitter cold. No rain, though.

It's been 14 hours since we left our home in Sunnyvale. More, now that we've ordered room service: pizza, beer, a banana-raspberry smoothie, and chocolate peanut cake.

We're staying at the Sheraton Grand Park Lane Hotel. Tiny room. No view. I've turned up the heat but nothing is happening.

Finally we go out where it is much colder and walk around snapping pics of double-decker buses and red phone boxes plastered with pictures of half-naked girls advertising their services.

Once we get off Piccadilly, we notice nifty little places to eat. Lots of them. Places we should have gone for dinner and will tomorrow.

In fact, we plan to go back to a cute little Italian place, a corner cafe, for due cappuccini in the morning.

No Matter What

When Characters Come Alive

I had more fun writing Then We'd Be Happy than anything I've done before. The characters came alive for me and now seem like real friends. They are energetic, funny, insightful, and face life's challenges with the same confusion and frustration we all feel. They have their faults, as you will see, but I can't help loving them all.

Refreshingly Unorthodox

The first review of my new novel, Then We'd Be Happy, is outstanding:

“A refreshingly unorthodox tale of the challenges facing modern, lower-middle-class 20-somethings.” 
— Kirkus Reviews

Preorder now from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or IndieBound.

A Voice We Won't Hear Again

Dan, Sandra, Me, and Joanne

Sandra touched people.

If you were talking to her, she might reach over and touch your arm to let you know she got your joke or felt your pain.

You could open up to her.

She was warm and tenderhearted.

Also stubborn and fiery.

She cared about fairness. She cared about people who needed a second chance. Like she did. Like we all do.

She made mistakes but learned from them and did her best not to repeat them. She learned to stand up for herself, though sometimes her courage failed her.

She hated being taken advantage of or stolen from. There was no need for that. All you had to do was ask.

She let you know she loved you in spite of your faults. Maybe even because of them.

She liked to drink and gamble, dance and sing.

I loved her voice. Not just the singing. The way she talked. It was a sweet voice that suited her perfectly.

I won’t hear that voice again.

But I will hold Sandra in my heart forever.