Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 3, 2024

IWSG writing software and Health wishes and vibes



July 3 question - What are your favorite writing processing (e.g. Word, Scrivener, yWriter, Dabble), writing apps, software, and tools? Why do you recommend them? And which one is your all time favorite that you cannot live without and use daily or at least whenever you write?

I was DIE HARD into MS Word for, basically, ever. I'm Gen X. Word is what I learned since middle school. That's what I knew.
Then, one day when I was house hunting/ dreaming, I thought, "You know what'd be seriously awesome? If I could write on my main desktop commputer, but later use a laptop and sit on the porch or something for a few hours and write there, but still have access to what I was writing. Without saving on a thumb drive or whatever." And BEHOLD, the CLOUD ☁ came into existence. My love of Dropbox is deep. Then I completed NaNoWriMo for the first time, and bought Scrivener. Then I had to LEARN how to use that. And I like it for several reasons. But I can't use it on my phone. (Don't bother telling me the ways I could. The Android app just doesn't "pet my fur." 😼🐈) 

So, honestly, what I use to write most often is Google Drive. I can easily share with my writer friends. I can access it on my phone or laptop (the Desktop is as dead as the Windows Vista it used). And I can save in multiple formats. Plus, it works with Grammarly. So that's my answer.




Asthma.net on Facebook

My response part 1 My response part 2


I was hospitalized on Jan 13, 2024, and diagnosed with a stroke. I was discharged after having a serious asthma attack, and the medical team realized they were killing me.
I can't change what happened.
But I am going to write some positive vibe stuff, how I WISH things had been handled.
  • "I see you're squirming pretty hard, and your 9-1-1 call said you needed to urinate. So I'm going to let you use a bedpan quick, while putting in the IV line here in the ER room where you have a fan and can breathe. Breathing is important. We need to make sure you keep breathing while we assess your possible stroke. 
(Instead of forcing me to continue to hold it. Taking me to the CT room, where it was too difficult to breathe, and increased suffering for 15 minutes while trying to get an IV.  Noting I was struggling to breathe, doing nothing about it. And injecting a dye so it felt like I had urinated, making the urge so much more painful, then yelling at me for not being still enough. Did they WANT me to piss in the CT machine? Because it was crazy close to happening.)
  • "Your hand is turning purple, and you are screaming in agony. It seems the automatic bp cuff doesn't work on you, and it, in fact, triggers your "fight/ flight response," which increases your blood pressure. We need to lower your pain to reduce your blood pressure, so we're going to try doing it by hand with a cuff that actually fits your arm."
  • "You've been admitted. Here is a mini bottle of hand sanitizer so you can keep your hands clean, especially before you eat. We won't let you wash your hands because you can't get up."
  • "Hi, I'm one of the nurses. I need to <medical reason>, so I'm going to grab your gown and stare down in it at your chest. 
(Because in literally any other situation, a stranger grabbing your clothing and staring at your chest... that's assault. Seriously, this is unethical behavior in any other situation, no matter how you cut it. I'm not sure I wasn't assaulted, to be honest. But for my mental health, I tell myself there was a reason. I didn't have any leads on, so it couldn't be one was loose. Umm... maybe he was checking that my ribs were still inside my skin. Uhh... I don't know. I reported it, but I don't believe anyone cares.
My mind, in that moment, went to defending myself. I would have slapped him. But my right arm wasn't properly functioning yet. And, he was a BIG guy, his body was on my left arm, rendering it useless. I didn't think of screaming because it takes a lot of air to scream, and I was having enough trouble breathing.)

  • "We see you are taking Advair 250/50. That's a pretty serious respiratory prescription. Is there anything we can do to help keep you breathing?
(As opposed to, "oh, we didn't think your asthma was serious." Said after my attack. 
  • "Let me get a tape measure. It seems you won't fit into this MRI machine in the position we need. And it'd be too hot. So we'll leave you in your room.
(Instead of trying to cram me in, injuring my elbow, ignoring that injury, and then exclaiming, "oh damn, she stuck." And then sending me back to my room.)

  • "I've brought you back to your room. Let me settle you on the bed and make sure you have your call bell and such."
(As opposed to dropping me and rushing out. Why assign a nurse to escort me if she didn't have the time to keep me alive? The asthma attack was πŸ’― totally avoidable. Half a second to push a table over. I almost died because someone didn't shove a table my way as she rushed out. Take a second to secure the patient you are with. That's a very basic care procedure. Don't put your "fall-risk" patients in dangerous situations. "ABC" - airway, breathing, cardiac -- make sure your patient can breathe and has a heartbeat before leaving the room.)

  • "We're discharging you early because you stopped breathing, and we don't have a way to keep you alive. But, since you just took your first five steps today, we recognize you will need some help getting back into your home. So we've called <paramedics, firefighters, physical therapists, wrestlers doing community service, the local bodybuilders association, who the fuck ever> to help get you home safely since you can't walk on stairs yet."
  • "We've contacted tech support and they did some minor programming. Now we can put a copy of your MSDS sheet on your chart, along with a note. So no medical person will ever neglect your respiratory needs again."
(Seriously, since we don't use paper, and thus can't paperclip a thing, create an alternative! We have the technology. Even just a note on the chart, people can Google CT-511 themselves. Or just note that I need air 60℉/ 15.5℃ to properly breathe. An anesthesiologist might need to know details, but at least other doctors could avoid needing to use, "😰 CODE BLUE response team!" Just stop trying to make me unalive.)

Primary reasons I (uselessly) reached out to half a dozen lawyers:

  1. I should not have had to experience another asthma attack while hospitalized.
  2. My elbow should not have been injured, and that ignored, while hospitalized.
  3. My right big toe should not have been injured and ignored while hospitalized.
  4. I should not have been prescribed an overdose of aspirin.
  5. I was discharged so fast that another patient's information was attached to my discharge summary. HIPPA violation?
  6. Arrangements should have been made to get me home safely, as I could not yet walk well enough on my own (especially on steps).
  7. I wonder if manual blood pressure readings could have been taken in the ER, instead of letting my left arm turn purple. Especially as my right arm wasn't working at the time. Could one hand/ limb have been protected? 
  8. Is it possible, in the future, for my respiratory condition to be taken seriously at the onset?

I'm sharing this on my blog because this is my space. I wanted to write about what happened and how I wish I was cared for instead. Mostly, I wish I would have been safe at the hospital, that my breathing would have mattered. I feel scared and helpless. I know no one can do anything about it. But I wish there was a way to prevent anyone else from facing this situation. And I wish I could protect my future self. Not that this blog post accomplishes either of those, but I genuinely don't know what to do other than leave this record here. 

Thanks for reading.

Medical ID front
Asthma/ Respiratory Condition
Requires air 60℉ or below

medical ID back
⚕ Diabetic, Stroke. Jamie Dorner
Latex Allergy


Totally useless medical ID bracelet on my wrist. I had on my old one in Dec, but pretty much the same except for the stroke update.

Sunday, December 23, 2018

From a writing prompt

Actual writing ahead!
A short story/ flash fiction from a prompt. A closed writers' group on Facebook hosts this thing.



THE TWINS AND THE PIT

“Sometimes, love means clinging on to someone, and sometimes it means letting them go.” I flex my fingers around her hands.

“No! You promised not to let go,” her eyes widen, her attempt to sound authoritative overridden by the fear oozing from her voice.

“But when you love someone, sometimes you have to let go,” I manage not to laugh, to keep my voice serious.

Her fingernails dig into my skin. “You will not drop me. I'll tell mom about your box.”

“What box?” I tighten my grip. The kids behind me light up with chatter.

She smiles up at me, her hands relaxing. “Seventh floorboard from the door. I took a video of what's in there. And I backed it up on my friend's cloud drive. Oh, and I have another of you from last Tuesday, when you added to the box. It's not clear what's in that bag you were carrying, but you take it to your room, and then there's the sound of the board moving, and then you come out with an empty bag and insult me. Mom will certainly put it together.”

“Slimy twit! You're not supposed to spy on me.”

My twin sister rolls her eyes. “Pull me up. We've won.”

“Which friend?”

“What?”

I let go of one of her hands. “Which friend has the backup copy?”

“You're not going to let me fall!” Her dropped hand reaches for me. She tries to yank herself up. We both know she can't.

The kids behind me snicker until I turn my head toward them. “Anyone not wanting to land in the pit should leave. Now.”

No one doubts my resolve. They run like roaches from the light. I turn toward my twin.

“If you drop me, mom will ask what happened, and I'll tell her why you let me fall.”

“When I drop you, it'll take time for you to get out. And you'll be covered in the goo of the pit. I'll get home first. I'll tell mom you jumped, and that you've been planting evidence against me. I'll show her the box and say it's yours. That I was keeping something else in there. Her mind will be made up before you get home.”

“No! No, you can't do that. Help me up. Just help me up. I'll get rid of the videos. And the backups.”

“And you won't spy on me again?”

She shakes her head. A tear slips out and rolls down her cheek. It drops to the goo far below.

But what is one tear compared to wax, mud, decaying plants, bits of trash, and thousands of insects? They say the pit was once for swimming in. That important people raced around in it, back when it was full of pristine water. Back when there was so much water that people wasted it for things like that.

Now we just hold each other over it and see who can keep their partner from falling in the longest. My sister and I hold all the records.

“Which friend has the backup?”

“Sett,” my sister answers with a huff.

“Poinsettia? You gave her the backup copy? Why her?”

“Like she's storing anything else on her cloud? Besides, she's the only one who wouldn't turn on me and blackmail you herself.”

“No, Fuzzbrain, I'm the only one who wouldn't turn on you.” I lift my sister up. She's clean, as always, because I've never let her fall into the pit. And I never would. But she doesn't need to know that.

“Why do you have that stuff in the box, anyway?”

“You aren't old enough to understand.”

She punches my arm as we walk home. “I'm the same age as you, Troll.”

“I've matured faster.”

“You wish. Race you to our front door?”

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

The 777 Writing Challenge


The 777 Writing Challenge has landed in my lap. J tagged me.


The 777 challenge requires you go to Page 7 of your work-in-progress, scroll down to Line 7 and share the next 7 sentences in a blog post. Once you have done this, you can tag 7 others to do the same with their work-in-progress.

Here goes:

“I was accepted. I’m not going to go though. It’s too far. There are no buses.”

“How are the other students going? Do they all have parents with cars?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know, but the school has dorms. I meant that there aren’t buses I could ride to come back and forth to visit.” I rub my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. The place is probably expensive.”

She sits up straighter and crosses her arms. “Probably? You mean to tell me, Lenore Allan Franco, that you didn’t ask? You’re willing to dismiss a path to your dreams, the chance at the a better future, without doing the slightest touch of research. What would it hurt to ask? You’re smarter than this.”


---

I'm tagging some Lehigh Valley WriMo friends (a few who probably won't do this, but I'm putting it out there)!

1- NickiIV
2- Ooklah
7- Tayron

Rock on!