What am I doing wednesday,------ The month before Pilgrim Part two.

One or two of you must have bought Pilgrim; if you have, thank you very much,
if you have actually been brave enough to read it, would you consider leaving a review on either Amazon or Goodreads, it would help, honestly. If you enjoyed it why not join my mailing list and be the first to hear about anything new or any offers.
 I am going to move onto last months adventures, but first another inspiring photo. This is the Camino de Santiago as it is in Sarria, where I live. It is impossible to live here without being affected by Pilgrimage.

The Camino. Sarria Old Town

Back to last month. Have you ever had an MRI on your back? Well,  I hadn't. My entire knowledge came from watching Grey's Anatomy, which showed large swish looking machines where the operator looks down through glass windows from a spacious room full of computers on a spotless room to a patient clad in a long cotton gown.

Right, well, forget all that, our MRI is in the back of a lorry, the machine resembles the inside of a toilet roll and the operators stand and chat with a seemingly endless stream of people next to your ankles.

The changing room was so small that Barbie would have been worried and the hospital gown is a paper sheet the size of a tea towel with two slits for the arms of someone who must resemble a flat-chested stick insect.

It took me more than the allowed thirty seconds to realise that I was supposed to wear this sheet of paper and not sign it and attach it to the nurse's clipboard. A clipboard which already held a signed disclaimer stating that they were not responsible for the loss of any piercings I may have, or for the damage caused when they were sucked out of position by the machine and that I had no undeclared illness, heart problems or broken limbs.

After the nurse had called Elisabet, for the third time she whipped the curtain back and forced my arms through the tiny slits, causing the sheet to tear and my circulation to be cut off, and pushed me toward the machine which I was eyeing fearfully. If the gown wasn't designed for a plus-size body then nor was the machine itself. 

Having scrambled inelegantly onto the table I was given a panic button, and having been told what it was, was told not to press it as the whole process would have to start again and no one wanted that!. I was also told not to move, but by now we had both realised that this was an unnecessary instruction. Between the size of the paper sheet, the size of the tube and the bad back that I was here for, moving was not going to be an option.

Once the machine started it was like being inside a jet engine, very loud. I was aware also that there were now several people chatting over my ankles, I couldn't hear or see them but they kept blocking the light. I worried, because of the breeze,  that the door to the lorry was open meaning that anyone in the car park, should they so wish, could see me in my tube naked except for a paper towel, however, the door was closed when I was released.

Eventually, they kindly extracted me and allowed me to get dressed. I was told to make an appointment at reception to see a doctor for the results. It was Sunday afternoon, no one on reception and with no idea what was supposed happen next, I went home slightly dejected.

So stressed was I by this time, that everyone who crossed my path got their head bitten off, this caused a member of my writing group to leave the group much to my shame and embarrassment. I thought that the month would never end.

I realise that all this has got nothing to do with writing, of course, it hasn't. The trouble is that life insists on carrying on even though we have a book to write.

As you know I did continue and publish Pilgrim. I am in the process of preparing The Book of Herbal Medicine for publication. This is the sequel to the Silver Chalice and should be available to order sometime next week with a publication date in early December. More details will be available next week but needless to say, I hope that the month is less dramatic.

What am I doing Wednesday.

Well, the big news today is that pilgrim is published. Available to buy in digital and paper format. I was going to spend the whole blog talking about inspiration, as writers do, in hope that you would imagine me sitting at my desk thinking inspired and writerly thoughts.
I promised to try and keep this real though, so I am going tell to you about the month running up to today and why I almost didn't push the button.
 But first an inspiring photo: This is a friend's art gallery and place that inspired the setting for Richard's house and gallery.

Art's gallery.

The month started with a swollen face, a tooth infection had spread from the root of my tooth up through the bone under my nose. The dentist took one look at the x-ray, shook his head, and gave me a prescription for anti-biotic tablets so big that a horse would have trouble swallowing them Also extra-strong painkillers and the dire prediction that my four front teeth would be easy to remove because of the compromised bone, but that he wasn't sure about the rest. He was really surprised that I was upset by this and assured me that any dentist would say the same. He made no mention of what might replace so many missing teeth but told me that I would need another x-ray to make sure no other bones had been affected, pointing vaguely at the area where my nose should have been, but appeared on his screen as an undefined blob. I retreated to a cafe and cried into my coffee, I couldn't drink the coffee very easily anyway.

Shortly after the dentist, I got an appointment through to have an MRI on my back. I have had bouts of Sciatica for the last few years, but recently the pain would ease off, but never go away and my leg now goes numb when I walk any distance.

 Whilst I am talking about sciatica, I must tell the story of the Chinese restaurant at Christmas. I had woken up on this particular morning and decided to go to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, and only by edging myself across the floor on my hands and knees, I eventually made it, it took me another twenty minutes to actually sit on the toilet. Having achieved that much I considered staying there for the rest of the day. Steve intervened with what was probably an overdose of ibuprofen and managed to lever me into the bedroom armchair. Any other day I would have been content to read my book, put on some music and let Steve bring me a cheese sandwich for lunch.

 "But it's Christmas day," I wailed, "I don't want to be here," He stood there looking bemused, It really wasn't his fault that I had sciatica but he knew from experience that he was about to be held responsible. He had a brainwave.

"Why don't I find out if the Chinese restaurant is open, I'll take you to the door in the car and get you settled and bring the car around when we've finished, you'll hardly have to move at all"

As luck would have it some friends were there when we arrived, so it looked as though we would get to celebrate Christmas after all. They were all very sympathetic to my plight and we ordered lunch.

" I have this brilliant yoga move that works for sciatica," said Debs "it's called The hanging penguin" (I don't remember the real name but I  am sure Debora, will tell you if you happen to bump into her, she is very kind). I looked blank, I had never done Yoga. She tried doing a stick drawing on a paper napkin, now we all looked blank, though it did vaguely resemble a penguin. There was no way around it, she was going to have to demonstrate. Table and chairs were moved to give enough space, and she took a breath and raised her arms, spread her hips and straightened her spine. Please bear in mind that calling our party middle-aged is being generous and we were all wearing Christmas day, going out clothes. So then, two things happened; her partner edged his chair away trying to pretend that he didn't belong and we had the full attention of the other diners and the waiting staff.

"Should I try it now?" I asked rather weakly, wondering what would happen if I got into position and then froze, like one of the statues in the white witch's castle.

"Goodness me no," she said resuming her normal position. "Do it when you are feeling better, to prevent another attack." She sat down and carried on eating as though nothing had happened, but Steve, Stuart and Lisa were now laughing so much that they had tears running down their cheeks. I mention this only to illustrate that the best memories involve a triumph over adversity. Sadly I have no photo, but then Debs might never forgive me for showing such a photo anyway. So to continue my story.

 My GP had sent me to a specialist who had ordered the MRI telling me not to move very much until he had the results and we knew what we were dealing with. Have you ever tried not moving too much? sounds fun? Honestly, binge-watching Netflix is only a good idea when you don't have time to do it. In practice, less so. On the plus side, I have discovered narrow boat vlogs on YouTube. Did you know that such a thing existed? Amazing, like that bird song music that they play in the spa areas of sports centres. 

 For someone who has never had any illness worse than a cold, all the medical attention was becoming extremely stressful. Strangely the most stressful thing is not knowing 'the system'. Where to go, what to ask, what do you wear? How long do you have to wait? I have the added complication, because I live in Spain, that no one can pronounce my name. My given name is Dawn Hawkins the aw in Dawn and the Haw in Hawkins has no equivalent in Spanish and most strangers aren't willing to attempt it. Spanish friends call me Alba to save embarrassment, but appointments for anything official can be tricky. Don owkin happens sometimes,  Elizabet (Elizabeth is my middle name) happens more often, sometimes, mostly in fact, they just wait until there is no one else waiting and then wave the paperwork at me. I have learned to take a book with me on such occasions and a bottle of water and make sure I know the whereabouts of the bathroom. I have even considered changing my name. It is worth noting at this point that if you are planning to move aboard, check in advance that your name is pronounceable in the local language, if it isn't don't go there, honestly, you will save yourself a whole load of grief.

The appoint for the MRI did come through, but I think that I will save that, and the rest of the month's woes for another day.

While you are waiting perhaps you would like to buy Death of a Pilgrim, read it and leave a review on Amazon. Or just buy it, I won't know if you don't read it, Amazon isn't that good ....yet.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07YN3K1Q2

Amazon US

Spain