Just another day at the hospital:

                It’d been four days since the pain in my uterus had started. But hell, who doesn’t have a bad bout of PMS. I went to work in a great mood and couldn’t wait to start the day.  Shit happens and I leaned over to my coworker and said, “This maybe TMI but I’m having some lady issues” he smiled at me. Told me that everything was ok.  An hour into my shift before I feel a crunching. I take a moment to sit down in private. Nothing an anti-inflammatory, I went to stand and I doubled me over.

                Hot waves and sweat began to pour over my face. I got up from my seat, took a step and literally hit a wall. I rubbed the side of my head and took a deep breath. I felt shaky waves of dizziness rattle my bones.   I can do this, it’s nothing. Been through worse.   I got back to my work area and I stopped.  The world warbled into the bipolar radio sounds of light 104.5, the only station we could manage to gain. MY co worker stopped his work and asked if I was okay.  I gave my typical crooked smile and told him I was alright. He was not buying the bullshit that I was selling. He says that I was paler or paler than usual. On a weird side note I was wearing more makeup than usual. I had laughed that maybe I needed to change brand in bronzer but then again everything seemed a little bit funny.

                MY training kicked in and I started to take a mental list of the symptoms. Logic would dictate that medical attention was necessary. No, I can make it. This is something I could fight. Another the cramp followed the hot, panting nausea doubled me over once more.  I needed to get to a doctor. My kind hearted co worker offered to drive me.  No, I can at least do this.  I left and sat in my car for a moment and fell asleep for a moment. I jerked awake and called the office and yet, no doctor as avail. I started driving slowly to the ER. But the dizziness got the better of me and I took a curb on the way. I parked the car and fell asleep in the car. When I came to, I continued to the hospital.

                I walked through the door and gingerly made my way to the desk were a warm personality of a cheery ER attendant. She worked on keeping me distracted but not enough that the intervals of symptoms were lost on me. With a heart of gold she assured me that the doctor would assist me soon.  Within moments a nurse was in attendance and to be honest it was a first. There was a time when I was literally bleeding out in the waiting room for well over 2 hours.  

                It was an awful realization when the questions started. How’s your employment, I gave a sad laugh.  Are you married? I laughed harder and my eyes began to well with tears.  Thankfully she understood having been the particular situation, my tears didn’t fall. It seemed to me it was yet another memory revealing itself in the most inappropriate way. While sitting there talking with the nurse, I find out that a system glitch had a occurred yet again, my files were wiped clean during a system switch over. I knew that behind those doors, I had been held down. I knew that behind those doors, the cancer treatments and possible tumor discovery were haunting me like ghosts in a dank hall. Do you have any family? She inquired and a numbness took over with the answer of “No.” There is no one. Once again, I was alone but thankfully she understood and no one more questions were asked.

                I have the unfortunate problem with reading medical dictionaries and journals. Maybe monitoring condition isn’t the best idea I had ever had but to me, the devil is in the details.  A half hour later a jovial doctor joins me in the thinly veiled room and asked me what the problem was. In waves of even worse pain I had explained the chain of events and with a sense of condensing manner.  He brushed me off as if, it was no big deal. He said to me, “What do YOU think it is.” I looked him into the eye and said, “It is not situations of what is wrong but that the combined symptoms and how rapid they have come on.” He gave me a smirk and left the room. I stayed curled up on the hospital bed for well over an hour. I heard whispered hushes from the doctor’s and nurse’s mouth. I’m in pain, not def. eventually the sweet numbness set in. After a while, if I’m in pain for too long my body goes numb and thankfully as does my mind.

                The doctor came back in with a solemn sense and confirmed that something had been wrong not  only wrong but moving to my kidneys and diagnosed me with vertigo. Kidney pain, I could handle but vertigo? What the fuck. However, I was blessed with the epsilon salt fairy and cheap meds are putting back on track. I really want a cheese burger right now, with fried and cheese. DAMN you burger king! Damn you Arby’s for not being closer! But don’t worry,
I’m a fighter and damn it. I got too much shit to do for this! I’ve officially become too tired to write any more. Good night sportsfans and as always. I’ll be back.

Building Jacob’s ladder:

I looked off into the cloudy night’s sky as the moon light dwindled through like unsung melodies made soundless by man. It was an interesting sight to see. We three huddled underneath highly strung tarp while the dangers of lightening danced in into the far distance that faded into the nearby town. I had never really been the religious type but given the recent situation and the ebbing of reemerging pain, I began to wonder about building a latter to heaven.

Could it be done if heaven was a place at all? There was a part of me that wished that heaven was a place but even more than that, a home. I can never remember home as being a physical thing. Growing up we rarely stayed in a place longer than a year. For a time we bounced from place to place running from the people who were ripped from the pages of Anne Rule’s greatest works.  Home was not a place of walls or with obscure pieces of furniture. No, it was a smell. Small, simple and possibly strange in the eyes of some but to me home could always be near if I could smell home.

Home could be my own sense of heaven if I wanted it to be. It is, as of current, my temple. A sanctuary of peace and relief. It is hallowed area that is a shelter against the pain and bewilderment that the world seemed to carry lately. Yet, the eyes, it was just another place filled with stuff. I made a mix of different scents and became successful in my pursuit.

Lavender, vanilla, linen with a hint of greenery. I had my scent. I had created my ladder to heaven.  However, gazing at the forlorn moon through its cloud ridden bars I realized that there was a ladder to heaven and it was built bar by bar. Anyone could climb it but the location was tricky. We are our own ladders. Think of it like this: we all care divinity and therefore a piece of the hereafter with ourselves. Thus, we can always find heaven if we are willing in to look within. Hell can be the opposite.  By not honoring the divinity that is within yourself, you are not honoring your creators (which ever your belief system) and therefore creating your own hell. Even worse is that those around you can  By allowing those of untrue hearts to wound you it is a causing dishonor to not only yourself but the earth energies that walk with you.

I know where heaven is and it is within myself. Building the ladder to match the goal might be another story.

By the way, have I plugged my book yet? No? here it is again!

http://www.amazon.com/Reciprocity-Trinity-Smith-E-Hinrichs/dp/1484875532/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1369704567&sr=1-2&keywords=reciprocity

She who runs with wolves:

We were all an untamed being.  The women in our family have a sense of never ending enchantment of ones who live by the beat of their own drum. That drum beat hard through our veins in an undeniable lustful thrum. It’s hard to live with this wild streak with its tendencies to push us toward the fringes of isolation that create an environment to grow even more exotic habits.  We were women who thrived in darkness and lived to fight another day. Like cats, we fell on our feet and are quick to run. We run with the wolves because they are strong like us, misunderstood like us and everlastingly loyal. We run with them not because we are like them but because we want to be them.

I have long forced tameness into my life. I tried the straightest route. Get married and be the perfect wife. Go to school and get a career. Be successful.  That was the key wasn’t it? I wanted to take myself away from the safety of the wolves and turn to the staunch, white collar life of the straights. I could do it right? If I just did what I was told, I could make it and have a normal life. But the more I tried to sleep a full eight hours and color within the lines, the drumming in my heart got louder.  In the dark of the night, the drums sounded louder. It forced me awake at 3 am, every night for the last 10 years.  No matter where I am in the world, 3 am will grow to haunt me. I feel the pull of the drum and at 3 am instead of exorcising the demons of the drum, I cope with writing.

It’s my pack of cigarettes. While married I would stare at the ceiling thinking. I thought about running in the woods. All I could think about was running through those blessed woods, bare footed and jumping over obstacles while rushing my way through the sweet freedom of a moonlit night. There were no walls, no constrictions, just me and the moonlight. 

I recently published my novel (Reciprocity By E.C. Hinrichs, Now available on Amazon.com). A link will be provided below.  All I want to do is run with my wolves; exorcise my demons in the most unconventional of ways. To put it simply, to celebrate I want to drink, smoke, do unspeakable deeds for hours at a time and then when exhausted I want to strap a lap top to my person and then pass out from exhaustion. Keeping my demons well sated is a part of my process. If my wolves aren’t happy, I can’t write. Thus, I am currently searching for a way for me to exorcise those wolves in a tasteful and yet tactful sense while silencing their enthralling lull.

How do I accomplish this?

http://www.amazon.com/Reciprocity-Trinity-Smith-E-Hinrichs/dp/1484875532/ref=sr_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1368582703&sr=1-7&keywords=reciprocity

Writer's block? NO!

            I sat in front of computer. It had been about ten years, I thought to myself and yet I find myself working a temporary job in some temporary place. They call me a “permanent temp.” I mean what the hell is that supposed to mean? It means I work there with no chance for advancement. So, I’m fighting some new form of the black plague working on my second week in this brand new job when I discover- I hate it.

            Like I have hated my temp job before that one. It was in a sand paper factory working non-stop over time with endless weeks. I also hated the job before that one working at a successful chain of liquor stores for over six years. Before that it was a pizza place and then it was cell phone joint. All of them filled my life with the phase of “just for now.” That in itself ten years later seemed like some epic joke. Eighteen year old me would have pictured my elder self-living in a four bedroomed house with kids and a career.

            However life has led me another way. First off the person who said, “High school will prepare you for the real world” should be hit by a giant anvil and then run over by a train.  Because that line is a total load. If anything, it just made me more depressed about the real world and disenchanted me to harsh realities that already resided deep inside my bones. For the most part my life was as “real” as it could get. When you are in high school, hell even in grade school they discount your opinion as having no idea about life.

            The fact of the matter is life is as “real” as you make it. There is no enchanted moment when life changes and becomes actualized. Nothing really changes the stakes just get higher and you become a layered individual based on the outcome of various situations related to said stakes. I attempted the tried and true method of getting married going to school. The ended as most educations, tragically.

            I tried working myself to the top and ended up face butting a glass ceiling. The corporate factors tend to act diplomatically like ice skating glass dolls hocking rocks at one another.

            So, here I am back at the only place I will ever find as my true home and calling. Writing. My book, Reciprocity is due to drop any day now. And I can’t wait to finish my next book. I’m worried it might not be enough. But it  is the step in the right direction….. I hope.