In preparation for surgery, I have to test for a pheochromocytoma, which is a tumor on the adrenal gland. From all accounts, it's a nasty little thing to have. I wouldn't know. Fortunately, I have never had one. But I hear it can be just terrible if left untreated. Recently, evidence has come to light that indicates the McCoys of Hatfield and McCoy feud fame suffered from VHL, and most likely from pheos. The national media (in its never-ending quest for accuracy) has labeled VHL the "mystery rage disease." Read the story about the McCoy's and VHL here.
I had a pretty fun time with the mystery rage disease thing, Emailing my coworkers and warning them not to set me off and such, but having a test for a pheo is simply nothing to joke about. You can't have caffeine for 72 hours prior to the test. 72 hours! Okay, I decided, I'm a trooper. So I squared my shoulders, gathered my resolve, and marched bravely on. That was Friday. Now it's Sunday, and I've pretty much resorted to crawling from room to room, whimpering, and moaning about Starbucks. I'd console myself with one of my other favorite things-- sex or chocolate—but those are both on the forbidden list too. My husband has promised to take me out later for an oatmeal raisin cookie. Oh yum. Oatmeal and raisins. Sounds more like an old person's breakfast than a treat if you ask me.
Somehow, I managed a few moments of lucidity yesterday and finished the book I have been working on since December 2004. It's a fantasy romance, and to be honest, it isn't exactly finished. I still have to edit the last three chapters and write the epilogue, but the story itself is finished and on paper. yay me! Once I get the blurb written, I'll post it here. Then I'll write a synopsis, query agents, and move on to my next writing project. None of this should be attempted, however, until tomorrow, blessed tomorrow, when I can have coffee again. A cafe mocha and all will be right with the world.
