You know that cliche about having a new lease on life? After being released from the hospital last week, I can feel it. The hospital feels airless and gray, a trap. The world feels alive and colorful, even when it's raining. Especially today, when it's not.
My energy's been building back up since the hospital. I can't wait to go back to the gym! Also, my bro is coming into town tomorrow, which makes me happy. Listening to Aerosmith's "Rag Doll" on my headphones right now and it just rocks. I want to travel, I want to ride my bike, I want a burrito. Looks like I'm feeling better.
I think I finally have enough distance to write about this amazing agency without wanting to cry.
In September, I sent my query letter to Dan Lazar. Within a day I had a request for the full manuscript from his assistant, Stephen Barr. Stephen proved to be one of the more insightful, thoughtful and unique readers I've ever met.
After a pretty serious series of exchanges, they rejected me. Stephen spoke with me by phone in October and invited me to resubmit.
I did. They rejected me again.
I have nothing but the utmost respect for these guys. The way they looked at my work was really something. The things they said to me -- some of them are engraved on my heart, no kidding. I would have loved to be represented by Dan Lazar, to work with Stephen Barr -- but hey, there's always a next time.
I got sprung from the hospital on Friday. Adam went to go move the car and by the time he came back, I was dressed and packing and totally excited to get out of there. Recovering is a slow process, but being back in the world is amazing.
Here's the whiny 2 am post. Before last night I'd never slept in a hospital as an adult, and even as a kid. Only when I was born, and at that point I assume I either slept well or didn't and didn't think about it much either way.
They gave me Ambien. I've never had it before. They offered me Vicodin and I opted for Tylenol. Vicodin scares me.
Supposedly they're letting me go tomorrow. I hope everything's fine and I can go home. Little things make a huge difference. They took me off the IV tubing so I can move around more freely. I have ice water and a nurse I can call. Adam brought in my favorite picture of the two of us as well as a card, and I have both sitting on the bedside table.
The nurses here have been nothing but nice. It still doesn't make me want to stay. I want to go home and I'm wondering if the Ambien just hit.
Let's not dwell on how I spent my 36th birthday at Alta Bates Summit Medical Center under treatment for a rotten kidney infection. Let's instead observe this modern phenomenon with that handy tool, bullet points:
- Giada Di Laurentiis cooks with her cleavage. She spents more time sucking her fingers and saying, "Mm! That is sooo good!" than actually stirring.
- Paula Dean probably sounds like a Rhodes scholar when you wake her in the middle of the night. The Neelys too.
- Anthony Bourdain was right: Emeril is an ewok, and an annoying one at that.
- Shamefully, I do like Rachel Ray.
They're releasing me tomorrow. Life without an IV sounds more than swell.
A major part of my job is sorting through press releases and deciding which news to cover. Today I found myself thinking about what drives me to turn a press release into a story:
- Information is provided completely, accurately, and succinctly. - A picture is included. It's helpful. - The release is sent with crisp, professional language. Don't ask me how I'm doing, just tell me what you want to pitch.
I sit in our living room and look at the life we have pieced together: pictures from Costa Rica, a hat from Santa Barbara, a candle you gave me last week at St. Orres. Each day I wake and am grateful whether or not I know it.
You are my first reader.
You are my first love.
You are my best friend.
You are my husband.
Thank you for two wonderful years and for all that there is to come.
I'm a writer and storyteller in Berkeley, CA. If you're wondering where that is, follow the smell of patchouli and skunkweed. There you'll find me with my kickass husband, gorgeous little boy, and manic Lab-Australian Shepherd mix pups. I'm represented by Miriam Altshuler of DeFiore & Co., but of course, my views are my own.