Book Soundtrack

I've always included music in my writing.  For one, if a song is playing at a fairly signifcant moment, I wll forever associate that song with the event.  I did not choose these songs based on lyrics, but the significance they held to an event or to a person.  Since the book is about death, you'd think I chose "Don't Fear the Reaper" because of the obvious connection to death, but you'd be wrong.  Here's an article about a company doing soundtracks for books.  Hmmmm.
Books with Soundtracks: The Future of Reading?  The Atlantic

Here's my Official Soundtrack to "When November Ends"



"Sweet Baby James" by James Taylor  This song was playing the moment I realized I was going to die.  I was 30 years old and holding my four-day-old child.  I was scared shitless, despite the soothing sounds coming from Taylor's mouth.

"Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult  The minute I got in my rental car in Austin on my way to Huntsville, this song came on the radio.  It was really dark and I couldn't read my map and well, I was totally freaked out.  It was followed by "1999" by Prince, but it didn't have quite the same impact.

"Orinoco Flow" by Enya  Khristian Oliver's favorite song.  When he told me this, I thought it was kind of a weird choice, but what do I know? I've listened to it many times and it really is beautiful.

"Walk On" by U2  Another favorite of Khristian Oliver's.  His penpal and friend Amber told me that this one was one of his favorites as we stood outside the Walls Unit.

"American Eulogy" by Green Day  I always think of Khristian when I hear this song.  Don't know why.  Maybe because it's about a guy name Christian.

"Hey Soul Sister" by Train  When I attended the birth of Marion, this song was part of a playlist that her Dad and Mom made for her.  Whenever I hear this song, I think of that day.

9/11: A Letter of Love

Yesterday I deleted my personal blog, ironyandxtc.  Why?  Well, for one, my last post was in March, and two, I felt like I was developing a split personality with two blogs.  So, there’s going be some changes to this here deathwriter blog.  Despite the morbid title, I will now post stuff from my life and what is going on with the book.  Yes, the book.  It took me a long time to actually figure out how I was going to tell the story.  Was it about me?  Or was it about the people I met?  Since I know a lot more about me than them, I decided to show my character and how I changed by taking this strange journey with some amazing people. 

Okay, so today is September 11th.  For most Americans, including me, September 11^th is a day that we will never forget.  So many innocent people lost their lives.  If you were over 5 years in age, you probably remember where you were, what you were doing, how you felt.  You probably spent the day watching tv, or checking the internet or calling your loved ones to see if they were okay.  And you were scared.  I know I was. 

September 11^th also marks the anniversary of the day I married my husband, Erik twelve years ago.  9/11/1999 seemed like a really cool anniversary date.  But, two years later, it wasn’t.  I’ve always felt guilty about celebrating my marriage on that date, but this year I’ve changed my mind.  I can’t change the day I was married, I can only change the way I feel about it.  If anything, it makes me grateful for all the blessings that I have in my life.

So, Erik, if you’re reading this (and you better be) Happy Anniversary!

I am so grateful that you walked into a tiny, icky dive bar in San Francisco and accepted this stranger’s awkward invitation to attend a self help seminar.  (Folks, that’s a great story, but for a later date.)

I would also like to thank you for being a wonderful father to our kids.  They bring us a lot of laughs, love, joy and sometimes a little bit of freak outs, but they’ve made our lives so much richer.

Thank you for supporting me in all the crazy endeavors I’ve taken on through the years—party bus, Mary Kay, writing about death—and not blinking an eye.

What I love most about you is your willingness to roll with the punches, to cherish the wackiness of life, and last, but certainly not least, your sentimental streak.  And to top it all off, you’re pretty easy on the eyes.

You’re my best friend and I love you.    

Pamela

The Emergency

If there is anything I've learned about my son in the almost 8 years I've known him, it's this--if he says his stomach hurts, vomit is sure to follow.  And it did, just as I'd expected.  As usual, I set him up in his room with the portable dvd player and a trash can lined with several trash bags. I gave him teaspoons of water every fifteen minutes to insure he didn't get dehydrated.  This wasn't my first time at the barf-o-rama rodeo.  I spent most of sunday cleaning and disenfecting the house to prevent anyone else from coming down with this nasty bug.

By the next day, the vomiting had subsided.  I started out by giving him bland foods and chicken broth, but he wasn't really hungry.  He complained that his stomach hurt, but I figured that after all that vomiting, he probably strained a muscle and the pain would subside by the following day and he'd be ready for school and all would be good.  As usual.

The next day, he could barely walk.  I thought he was being dramatic.  Or maybe he was trying to get out of going to school so he could spend another day with mom watching movies and chilling out. I called the school and told him he'd be out again.  The nurse confirmed that a stomach virus was going around.  I imagined another day and he'd be back to his old hyper self, but when he looked up at me from the bathtub and cried, "When is this stomach pain going to go away?" I knew that this was something other than a 24 hour bug.

My first thought was that maybe he got the flu or maybe a hernia from all that dry heaving.  Luckily, my internet was down for the day and I had to go by my gut.  Normally I suffer from google abuse which often results in many unnecessary trips to the pediatrician's office at the first sign of a cold, fever, growing pain, what have you.  I'll admit, it's kind of embarrassing to be told by a doctor that there is nothing to do but give them fluids, rest, some Ibuprofen and maybe some chicken soup.  It's also expensive.

But, when your normally happy-go-lucky kid is acting very odd, it's time to consult the professionals. I loaded him in the back seat of the car and zoomed off to a children's urgent care clinic.  He complained about the bumps on the road.

When we shuffled into the clinic that was buzzing within 15 minutes of being open, Nik was able to bypass the line and went straight to triage.  They took his temp and felt his belly.  It hurt only on the right side.  He had a fever.  He was nauseous.  He had vomited. Within minutes, we were in a room and the doctor came in.  He felt Nik's belly again.  "Looks like it's his appendix.  I'm going to order a sonogram to take a look, but the clinical diagnosis points to appendicitis."

I think my jaw dropped.  Surgery.  Oh no.  They would have to put Nik under and cut him open and he was so little and frail and walking around like a 90 year old man.  The older doctor assured me that this was fairly common in kids and that once we got the results back, he'd have the surgery done immediately.  They didn't want it to burst, as that can cause a whole lot of problems.

Well, it was his appendix.  At 6pm, he went in for surgery.  We met the anesthesiologist and the surgeon.  They answered Nik's questions, they appeased our fears, and as we walked towards the waiting room, the nurse assured us that we had the best team working on Nik.

It was the longest, most worrisome hour of my life.  When I finally got to see him, I was so relieved that everything went well.  He was such a brave kid.  He didn't cry when they gave him the IV and is usual for him, he wanted to do everything himself.  No help.  If there were three words that could sum up Nik's experience, it's "I got this." 

We're home.  All is good.  I'm so grateful for the wonderful staff at Cook Children's Surgical Center, as well as everyone's prayers, thoughts and well wishes.  Thank you.