(Originally written and posted to the former website on 8/14/2021)
In 2012, I suffered my own personal apocalypse, so I wrote four of the books in the series, making the whole world suffer an apocalypse with me. Then things got worse because worse is a bottomless pit. Hate it when people say, “It could be worse.” Um … trying to jinx us or what?
I was in Charlotte, North Carolina. Ya know how there tends to be a theme to the way drivers of a city drive? A lot of people do the same shit, and it’s different shit people in another city do. Charlotte’s thing is Brakes are Optional. If you don’t feel like braking, let the car in front of you stop your forward progression. I have lived in Charlotte numerous times and nowhere else have I seen so many “Just didn’t brake” car accidents in my life. I mean ridiculous amounts! There should be bumper stickers there, reading: “Use your brakes” and “Brakes Save Lives.”
At the end of 2012, I was rear-ended. Nowadays, I refuse to have any small cars, since they crumple into an accordion shape against the heavy cars. “Crumple Zone” my ass. You are in the crumple! The idiot’s car had a front bumper scratch, that’s all. I was taken away by ambulance and the accordion-car towed to a lot to be shot and put out of its misery.
The thing about spinal injuries is they can take a while for the whole enormity of damage to show themselves.
Long story short, I lived six years in the mountains of West Virginia, as that was where I was given a home since I couldn’t work. I received three surgeries on my spine and numerous other procedures. My life was saved by Expanded Medicaid (which is for non-disabled adults) kicking in for the state in time, or I would have committed suicide to get out of the constant level nine pain I was in. At one point, I asked a close friend to help me die so the pain would stop. Those people against Expanded Medicaid, put that in your pipe and smoke it. Right here, a life saved due to it.
I didn’t write for the entirety of that time, since pain and morphine are not conducive to creativity. The last surgery was a double fusion on my lumbar vertebrae… recovery is painful as hell! Up at the top five most painful surgery recoveries. Just my luck, one week before that surgery, the anti-opiate laws kicked in for a state that had extreme problems with drugs -- drugs and teenage pregnancies, hey, there’s not a lot to do in the mountains for young people. So, I went through recovery under-medicated, and I would have assaulted old people to get their painkillers if I could move as fast as them. I had to use a walker and drag my leg for weeks. I have nerve damage in my left leg, which is the same leg as Peter Sullivan’s bad leg -- I did that so I would remember which one was his bad leg.
A few months after the surgery, I inherited some money from my dad's life insurance, so I moved to Florida. I never wanted to see ice again except in a cocktail. I had six months pain free, and starting writing, or rewriting, the series. I had originally written Books One thru Four in 2012, as the "zombie apocalypse" was happening via Cathinone drugs and something mysterious. Then I was hit with new pain that I could not understand what the hell it was. I had a day when I had so much pain in my leg that I had to get a cane to walk. But the pain felt funny.
I wrote five books in eighteen months. My chiropractic treatments stopped working. I was not feeling better. Pain started happening all over the place. It was my chiropractor who said, "That sounds like fibromyalgia." Aw, shit. I had a super bad primary at the time, who was like "Dear, you're getting older." I'll punch that shithead in the face, say that to someone merely in their forties! What is this, Medieval Europe and we are elders of the village once past forty?
Stupid Florida won't even allow Expanded Medicaid to go for a referendum to allow the people to vote for it, that is how hardcore dictating the politicians are in the this 100% Republican state. Extremes are never good. A friend of mine complains about Chicago, another extreme. She moves to Florida, and now she's in the red state extreme and complaining. For fuck's sake, why can't we have moderation?
So, I have the cheapest health insurance, with federal government financial assistance. The insurance fortunately let me go see a specialist without a referral from the dickhead doctor. I go to the rheumatologist, and I am diagnosed with fibromyalgia. The crappy gabapentin medication begins, which does all kinds of whoopsie woozy stuff to my brain.
Five books in eighteen months. After the attack on the book on Amazon and the stress of it, it took me a year to write Book Six. The fibro is entirely out of control, and it is entirely that man Rodney Cook's fault. What do you expect from a Klansman? It is not like they are humane and compassionate people.
So, I have had my own personal apocalypse, and I wrote a series to take the whole damn world with me! I have white streaks in my hair from all the pain I have endured. They actually look pretty cool. Except all the stress caused me to gray faster than anyone else in my family. The gray takes away from the white streaks impact.
I barely leave the house, since I can practically pass out suddenly. It's like someone pulls my electrical plug out of the wall. I have had joints just lose all strength suddenly, such as my ankle and I went straight down. I now have braces for both wrists, a knee, and a wrist. I look incredible if I wear them all at the same time. And of course, a cane. I did learn that with the wrist braces, if you provoke the cat into biting, the brace is like body armor against her. However, she wrestles with the knee brace on the bed, just in love with the thing, because she's a big old weirdo.
People who are so uptight about everything, they make no sense to me. If I did not keep my sense of humor through all of this, I would be like that woman at the shelter who ate her own hair in Book Five. I actually grew funnier.
Oh, so 'autoimmune diseases' make you get all kinds of allergies. The worst one ever struck me. I was already slightly allergic to sulfites, which the US is the only country in the world that puts sulfites into alcohol. I get Asian flush from sulfites without being Asian. Suddenly, I became massively allergic to sulfites. Like hangover level and you just had half a glass. I have two wooden legs from my drinking past. University in the UK, and all the service men in my life, I have the drinking badges. And suddenly I could not fucking drink at all. I was always weird about marijuana -- it did not feel the way everyone else felt. Boom, I am anaphylactic level of allergic to it. As in, take Benadryl level. That is not a high anyone is after. Scared the hell out of my roommate. I cannot take any of the products whatsoever. So, I am in escapism hell.
The inability to drink has also slowed down my drinking. Don't get concerned - I used to drink dark rum and sweat tea from about 5:30 am onward to write those books, which may be why some wacky spelling and sentences structures were in there. But that helped open my imagination. Gotta do something that loosens it up and allows for going into the imagination zone and see the scenes, smell them, feel them. This is especially vital for action scenes.
I have stuff to help get rid of the sulfites - why the fuck does America add this shit to booze?! But it is still not working right. Argh!
My own personal apocalypse. Yup.
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