The Write Word with Wareeze

Hello Friends. For those of you who do not know me, I write historical romance tangled with suspense and mystery under the pen name Wareeze Woodson. My books are mostly Regency, however I also have a historical western to be released in May titled Bittersweep.


I am including a short blurb for Bittersweep:

Yellow fever ran rampant over most of the state of Texas around 1882 striking the town of Bittersweep deeply. The disaster spilled over into five-year old Elizabeth Campbell’s life, tearing her family apart. From the seat of a wagon, holding her baby sister in her arms, she viewed her home growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Men had shouted at her papa to never return. Fifteen years later she arrived at Bittersweep to take a teaching position and to discover what really happened all those years ago.

My other titles available now:

Conduct Unbecoming of a Gentleman—An Enduring Love—A Lady’s Vanishing Choices—After She Became a Lady. Available on Amazon and at Soul Mate Publishing

Besides the view of my book covers. I decided to include a very personal touch. I am including a picture of the first present I received from my future husband. It is a lovely craved wooden box filled with candy. We were in high-school at the time.

Bio of Wareeze Woodson:

I am a native of Texas and still live in this great state. I write period romance tangled with suspense. I married my high school sweetheart, years and years ago. We raised four children and have eight wonderful grandchildren. At the moment, all my children and my grandchildren live within seventy miles of our home, lots of visits. My husband and I still love each other after all these years the stuff romance is made of, Happy Ever After!

I lost my love December 10, 2016 to cancer. He’ll always live in my heart.

Touching memories:

My first present from him was a beautiful carved wooden box filled with chocolates

gifts                                                  The last gift I received from him appeared under the Christmas tree after he was gone. A beautiful porcelain music box.

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When I received an email announcing the acceptance of my first book Conduct Unbecoming of a Gentleman by Soul Mate Publishing, I was elated. I ran out of the house waving a copy of my email calling for my husband at the top of my lungs. He dropped his tools and came running expecting the worst. The best had happened. Finally, I was a real author. LOL!

I advise new writers to join a few RWA chapters. Meet with critique partners and write, write, write. You must not be sensitive. Accepting criticism without wanting to hurl your computer against the wall is helpful and will toughen you for the kill or do I mean equip you with skills. That comes when you are finally published. Don’t take the reviews to heart, some are cruel and make an author want to give up. Don’t do it. Your book cannot be published if you don’t write it. Keep on keeping on.

I wrote a piece on scene construction for a Soul Mate Publishing blog post and I’d like to share part of it with you. I decided to bring the heroine of the story to life. This is my work in progress: ISABEL

Creating Worlds

Are readers interested in the workings behind the scene? Some say readers are curious about what it takes to write a book. Here is a small glimpse behind the scene of writing. When I write my historical novels, I must create my own worlds. The Regency/Victorian era is a historical fact, but make-believe, for all that because the time in the 1800s no longer exists. With each story, the scene must be created—when in time, day or night, where-location and what is happening. What the character sees, feels, and wants—all must be imagined and displayed for the reader.

Although the author has many historical facts to draw from, the story must exist in the world created by the writer. The colors, the sounds, the tastes and the smells add flavor to the story. The reader wants to visit these places through the character’s point of view and safely absorb the emotions as well. All rather a lot to provide for the reader and the bar is set high with expectations.


The flame of the candle flickered and glinted off the in-laid sliver on the barrel of the pistol pointed directly at Isabel. Fear griped her by the throat. She caught her breath, unable to move or even swallow.

The drapes billowed into the room on a sharp breeze before settling back to the floor with a barely discernable swoosh. The smell of London after a downpour, drifted into the open window, cleansed but still dominated by the odor of horses, foot traffic, and a tavern down the way. She shivered when her drenched cloak swung against the layers of her petticoats with a chilling heaviness. The damp cloth clung to her ankles while moisture trickled down her features into her eyes. She scarce blinked, her gaze captured by the gun.

The longcase clock in the hall chimed once echoing down the empty passageway. Even at this hour, the sound of a carriage rumbling over the cobbled-stones in front of the mansion reached the upper level.


I hope I’ve raised several questions in your mind with these few sentences. Is the man with the pistol the hero or the villain? Is this Isabel’s house, or did she enter the building for some nefarious purpose? What happens next?

I created a small glimpse of this world of danger, building tension yet the reader is safe. This is the world of my imagination. I like this world where velvet and fine jaconet muslins were worn to the Assemblies at Almack, where danger lurks before and after the ball, as well. The lives of the characters also dwell in this created world. What will happen to her, to him in this tale? Only the author of this created world knows and I’m not telling. After all, this is only make-believe, created in the imagination. I decided to take up the tale. ISABEL

In my world of writing, I have created four published works. All are Regency romances mixed with suspense and mystery except my May release. That one is a historical western. Thanks for visiting with me.


Wareeze Woodson


face book:



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The Watcher by Cari Davis

Her eyes follow me. Ever watching. Never blinking. Is she planning my demise? Is she hungry? No. She just gazes, taking in every movement with relentless observation. I try to stare back, but it’s in vain. She always wins. I give her a slow blink, showing friendship. She ambles across the floor, pausing for a long stretch to prove she isn’t overly eager, then rubs against my leg. Purring.


I’ve heard people say a cat’s stare is eerie. I don’t think so, but I can see why they do. I often wonder if that’s the way strangers feel when I go out people-watching. Most of the time, I go unnoticed. I try to not openly stare. Once in a while, though, I get caught. The person in my sights glances over, our eyes meet, and I quickly look away. Each time, I want to hold up a big sign that says I’m a writer.


In 59 Cents a Pound, Charles Bukowski writes: “I like to prowl ordinary places and taste the people — from a distance.” The poem, in my opinion, really captures the essence of people-watching, an activity just about every writer I know engages in. Writers observe and, if done well, bear witness to the human condition.

On a less grand scale, people-watching can enrich our characters and our stories. The way a person speaks, moves, gestures, or dresses can be borrowed to add layers of detail to our characters. Snippets of dialogue can make great writing prompts. Noting subtle expressions that display a particular emotion can help us convey that same emotion to our readers.

couple 1

My personal favorite part of people-watching is playing the “what if” game. What if the couple glaring at each other over breakfast, not saying a word, just found out they were both cheating on each other. The woman smiles to herself. Is she smiling at the thought of meeting her lover later that evening? Or, is she secretly gloating because she cleared out the bank accounts before he could? Or, does she know this is their last meal together because she hired a hit man? Or, maybe she’s remembering their wedding day. Maybe she’s planning ways to re-ignite the love they once shared. The possibilities are endless.

Do you enjoy people-watching? How has it made your writing better? Have you ever caught someone watching you?

You can find Cari Davis at any of the links below:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest | Google+

Fool's Gold #16 Final 400x600

Fool’s Gold ~ Forged Hearts Book One


Posted in Cari Shares!, Soul Mate Publishing, Writing | 2 Comments

Quilting Your Book by Catherine Castle

Catherine’s Irish Chain quilt top

Once a year have the opportunity to attend Joy Quilters Mystery Day and start a mystery quilt. I’ve been doing this for several years now and have several unfinished quilt tops. The interesting part of the mystery quilt challenge, and most nerve racking for me, is choosing my fabrics without any idea of what I’m making. Don’t misunderstand. I love fabric and have a big stash, but it’s rather eclectic. I always start fresh for the mystery quilt and purchase just little more than I think I’ll need, which is why my stash is eclectic.

One of Catherine’s Mystery Quilt fabric selections

The instructions tell me how much material to get; whether it should be light, dark, or medium values; big, or little patterns, or no pattern at all; what shape to cut the material into; and how big the finished quilt will be. Since there’s not always clear color information, I usually look for a piece of material with color combinations that I like and build my quilt around that. Beyond that, I’m flying blind. I don’t know what a single block will look like, much less the whole quilt.

At the Mystery Quilt session we get one clue at a time. Often the leaders will say, “Take one dark square and sew it to a light one, then sew your long medium value rectangle to that.” Easy enough, I think. But as I work, and get distracted talking to my tablemates, I often find myself stitching the pieces together incorrectly. False starts. Mistakes. So I rip the square, sometimes many squares, apart and start over, triple checking myself each time I lay new pieces together. After a bit, I get in the rhythm, chain stitching pieces together without lifting my sewing machine foot or breaking the thread. The repetitive pattern of hold together, feed under the foot, and stitch makes my progress hum, and I do okay until the leader adds the next step.

A Mystery Quilt Block Catherine doesn’t like much

During a pressing break, I’ll look around the room to see what everyone else is making, and I begin doubting my choices. Some ladies have chosen only two colors, but four different shades of each color. Their quilt tops look coordinated—and very pretty. Others might have twenty shades of blue, or browns or reds. They always look very striking and very planned out. The print I’ve chosen looks good by itself and my other colors are complimentary, but when I have my twenty different fat quarter fabrics cut up and stitched back together, I’m never sure I like what I’ve created. And if I don’t like it, I usually don’t finish the quilt.

When I write without a clear plan, by the seat of my pants, without any idea of what my scenes, chapters, or plot points are, or where the turning points happen, I feel like I’m making mystery books. I struggle with sagging middles, false starts, the dreaded blank screen, and a book that’s either too short or too long. I’ve tried writing scenes out of sequence as the ideas came to me—it took seven years to write that book, and I’m still not sure I’m happy with the ending. I’ve done writing without knowing the skeletal structure of my plot, and I’ve written from very detailed outlines. The books that I’ve written the fastest, with the least revisions, are always the ones that I have a clear pattern for and a clear picture of. If I have any holes in my story (and there’s always some wiggle room in the best laid out plans, be it quilts or books), my characters, whom I know rather well, usually fill them in for me. Knowing each part of my book supports the other and which section of the story to piece to another makes the job go swiftly, unlike my mystery quilts which get stalled after I lay out the first blocks and discover I don’t like what I’ve created.

All those unfinished mystery quilts, which I have laid so carefully into paper bags with their cutout pieces and instructions, are on my sewing bucket list. But I’ve lost interest in them, just like the books I blindly started. I plan to get back to them someday—the quilts and the books—but for now, I’ll try to concentrate on the projects I can see clearly. Maybe, if I can stay out of the fabric store, I won’t start anything new until I’m finished with the old projects.

Then, again … maybe not. I am, after all, a fabri-holic. Just ask my husband.


About the Author:

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle loves writing, reading, traveling, singing, theatre, and quilting. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her books on Amazon.


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The Perfect Cookie for Spring

I love cookies! Or as I like to call them, little stress relief wafers. 😀

There’s nothing better to warm you up on a cold winter day than a warm gooey chocolate chip cookie. Recently my mom made a batch of butterscotch sugar cookies – gluten-free no less – and they reminded me of spring with their sweet and delicate flavor. They’re the perfect cookie for a high tea royal wedding celebration or to satisfy that mid-day energy slump. I thought I’d share the recipe with you – enjoy this little taste of spring!


Gluten-free Butterscotch Sugar Cookies


1 cup butter, softened

¾ cup granulated sugar

¾ cup packed light brown sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract

2 eggs

2 ½ cups gluten-free all purpose flour

1 ¾ cups CHIPITS butterscotch chips

Preheat oven to 375 F (190 C). Beat butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar, and vanilla in a large mixing bowl. Add eggs and beat well. Add flour, beat well. Stir in butterscotch chips. Drop by teaspoons onto an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 8-10 minutes until lightly browned. Let cool on wire rack. Enjoy!


Perfectly Honest (The Perfectly Series, Book 1)

You never know where your words will take you…

When Mikaela Finn agreed to be Sam’s ‘fiancée’ for a weekend, she probably should have told him that she’s a doctor. Sam O’Brien, aka ‘Dr. Eye Candy’, is trying to shed his playboy reputation and convince a small town hospital that he’s ready to settle down. But when his ‘fiancée’ helps deliver a baby in the middle of the meet and greet, it’s a bit of a shock. If he’d known the whole truth, he might have done things a little differently because somehow his ‘fiancée’ ends up stealing his job and his heart. Not exactly the change he wanted. Lies and deceit – it’s a match made in heaven!


Linda O’Connor started writing a few years ago when she needed a creative outlet other than subtly rearranging the displays at the local home décor store. It turns out she loves writing romantic comedies and has a few more stories to tell. When not writing, she’s a physician at an Urgent Care Clinic (well, even when she is writing she’s a physician, and it shows up in her stories 😀 ). She hangs out at

Laugh every day. Love every minute.


Linda loves to connect with readers ~

Website   |   Facebook   |   Twitter   |   Amazon Author Page |   Newsletter


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Debut Life Lessons: Reflections on a Debut Year


Last week I hit my first grand author milestone (besides, you know, the one about publishing a book.) I officially hit my one-year mark of being a published author! WHEN PLANETS FALL has been on sale for an entire year. I’ve been an author for an entire year. My taxes have been that much more complicated for an entire year!

(Kidding. Sort of.)

I still remember my cheeks smarting from all the photos my husband took, trying to capture my excitement over signing the contract. I still remember the heart-squeeze of the sudden panic when I read the subject line FIRST ROUND OF EDITS. I still remember my eyes watering when I saw the vivid red-black of my cover for the first time.

So, I decided to talk about my DEBUT LIFE LESSONS. What surprised me. What I would’ve changed. All the goodies you want to read in a reflection post. Fifteen minutes into brainstorming, all I had was a blank page.

Took me a cup of tea and four chocolate chip cookies to realize why.

Before publishing, I had read a ton about the debut year, googled the crap out of other debut reflection posts, corned any debut author at events or sat in on their talks. Even jumped at chances to speak with more experienced authors. All this research gave me a pretty accurate idea of what to expect:

  • I knew not every book takes off into the wild blue yonder, so when mine didn’t but performed well enough to make my editor happy—I was thrilled.
  • I kept track of sales so that when a payment mistake happened—I was ready.
  • I knew not to jump at every marketing opportunity, and to be selective in what I did participate in—which prevented burnout.
  • I knew imposter syndrome was a thing, so when the self-doubt came in waves—I ignored it and kept moving.
  • I knew comparisonitis can be brutal, so I took steps to prevent it—and let the envy go when it oozed through the cracks
  • I knew to pad everything with grace—preventing more burnout and lending more satisfaction.
  • I even knew the second book is always harder—and boy has it been.

Is it terrible to say that not much surprised me because of this? Is it terrible to say, I don’t think I would’ve changed anything?

Maybe it’s not terrible at all. Maybe this is a good thing.

By knowing what to expect, I was better able to focus on the positives of my debut year. I celebrated holding my work. I celebrated signing books for readers. I celebrated seeing my first fan art. I celebrated signing the contract for the next two books in the series. I celebrated whenever I made a good choice in balancing this new author-life-thing. I could live in and celebrate each moment.

What a massive gift.

So, no. I don’t have any huge DEBUT LIFE LESSON LEARNED. But I do think my debut year has been pretty awesome anyway 🙂

Has research ever helped you prepare? Or, if you’re published, how was your debut year?

abby-j-reed-headshot-smilingABOUT ABBY:
Abby J. Reed writes young adult science fiction and fantasy novels that ask what if. She has a degree in English Writing and is drawn to characters with physical limitations due to her own neurological disorder called Chronic Migraine. Her debut novel, WHEN PLANETS FALL published in April 2017 by Soul Mate Publishing.

WHEN PLANETS FALLAbby lives in Colorado with her husband and two fluffy pups. If her hands aren’t on the keyboard, they are stained purple and blue with paint. Find her online at

Posted in Absolutely Abby!, Author, Inspiration, Motivation, Publishing, Soul Mate Publishing, Writing career | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Guinness World Record for Longest On-screen Kiss — C.D. Hersh




Hi! It’s Catherine here. The other half of C.D. Hersh.

For quite a few years, we’ve been watching the Bachelor television show. Yes, we know 99 percent of the “in love” couples at the end of each season don’t ever make it down the aisle. Yes, we know it’s a lot of drama and cat fights. Yes, we know it’s probably all hokey. But deep down we are romantics who hope that some lucky couple will find true love.

During the Bachelor Sean’s season, he had had a couple of romantic dates planned for his ladies. On week two there was a group date photo shoot with Harlequin, one of the most well known publishers of romance novels. On week three Sean took Lesley Murphy to set a new Guinness World record for the longest on-screen kiss. The old record was 3 minutes and 15 seconds. Sean and Lesley set a new record with a live audience cheering them on.

Watching that long on-screen kiss made me curious. If two people who barely know each other can lock lips for over 3 minutes and 16 seconds, how long can a couple who are in love kiss? So, I did some research from a purely writer’s point of view. I set the timer and read a love scene from a romance book for 3 minutes and 16 seconds.

If you were reading a 3 minute 16 second love scene (referencing kissing only here) it would take approximately two pages of lip-locking description to break the world record, assuming you are not a speed reader. That’s an estimated 600 words in Times New Roman font. When I searched my computer’s thesaurus for alternate words for kiss and kissing—because you would surely not want to use the same verb each time you mentioned kiss—I came up empty handed. Roget’s Thesaurus netted me a measly six synonyms: smack, buss, osculate (caress), brush, graze, and shave (touch). What shave has to do with kissing, aside from whisker burn, I have no idea. Roget forgot an obvious synonym, in my humble opinion—smooch.

On the hunt now, because I couldn’t believe how few alternate words I’d found for kiss, I went to my Romance Writer’s Phrase Book, by Jean Kent and Candace Shelton, where I found one hundred and five kissing related phrases. However, only 61 were suitable for use in 3 minutes and 16 seconds of lip-locking, record-breaking kissing description. To win the record both parties’ lips must be touching the whole time, and some of the phrases in the book involved kissing other body parts.

Next I did an internet search for synonyms for kiss and kissing. Here’s a few more that I came up with: snog (British slang for kiss), neck, canoodle, peck, suck face, make out, spoon, get to first base, french, plant one on, yankee dime/nickel (a favorite of Catherine’s parents), bill and coo, cupcake, spark, make whoopee, hooch up, and mwah (onmatopoeia for the kissing sound).

The next step in the research is to write a 600 word kissing scene. Better yet, I think I’ll set the timer and create my own Guinness World Record for kissing the other half of C.D. Hersh. That’s bound to be more fun than struggling to write 600 kissing related words on the computer. ☺

Have you kissed someone you love today?



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On the Road to Recovery

Good morning Soulies! I hope you are having a good day today wherever you’re at. Today I wanted to write a little about, you guessed it, the road to recovery.


As some of you might know, I recently had a major surgery. Nothing so severe as heart surgery or kidney surgery or any other major organ. But it was still a pretty big deal. I had a hysterectomy.

It wasn’t a hard decision. After all, my husband and I were done having children, I was having a lot of issues, and let’s face it, I’m getting up there in age. I scoured the internet, did my research, and discovered everything I could find on the surgery and the immediate recovery. So I was prepared. Or so I thought. But as you might know, reading about it and living it are two entirely different things.

So, if you’ll join me, I will tell you a tale of my trip to and from the hospital and my subsequent ongoing recovery. (Don’t worry, there won’t be any stomach turning details but maybe a few smiles and chuckles instead).

From the moment I knew I was having this surgery, I had to get things into place. Arrange time off at work, get the household in order, make the children understand exactly what their role would be in my recovery, etc.  With that being accomplished, fast forward to the day of the surgery.

Actually, as a side note, I never realized how much a person might want a drink of water or a bite of food until they can’t have it. When you have surgery, you are highly advised not to drink or eat anything after midnight. The reason: Pulmonary aspiration, the inhalation of food, liquids, solids, or vomit into the lungs or airways rather than through the esophagus to the stomach. Simply put, you might throw up while under anesthesia and it might go into your lungs which can cause significant damage like blocked airways and subsequent pneumonia.

Scary stuff right? So, no eating and drinking after midnight. Easy.


No big deal right? I mean, usually you’re asleep at that time, preparing for the procedure the next morning.


I couldn’t sleep. Not a wink. I guess I was so nervous about having surgery. You see, I’ve never had major surgery before and the thought of being knocked out scared the pee water out of me.

Random thoughts kept going through my head. Things like: what if the anesthesia doesn’t work? Would I feel everything but not be able to say anything?

Or what if they get in there and find something really wrong, something they weren’t expecting?

Or, and this was my biggest fear, what if I don’t wake up?

Anyway, you see where my mind was the night before the surgery and the day of the surgery.

My surgery was scheduled for 7:30 a.m. but I had to be there at 5:30 which meant getting up at 4:00. So early…. *YAWNS*

By the time I got to the hospital, my mind was full of horrible scenarios. Add to that, lack of sleep and you’ve got a heck of a patient.

The first thing they had me to do was get undressed and slip into one of those super sexy hospital gowns. You know the ones that are completely open except for the ties in the back? Yeah, those. And they gave me some super comfy, nonslip, bright yellow socks to wear too.

Let me tell you, for someone with no sleep, a rumbling tummy, and a head full of crazy thoughts running through it, I think I looked pretty cute. (Not really but hey, no sense being completely down on myself right? I mean, I was nervous, hungry, and tired. You can’t expect too much).


Now that I’m dressed to impress, the nurse comes in and talks with me. Checks my temperature, blood pressure, goes over my allergy list, etc.

Next, I’m hooked up to an IV. Need to get some fluids racing through my veins. One thing about me–I hate needles. For some reason, I can handle tattoo needles but not hospital ones. Anyway, I had to look away as she inserted the IV. And it was a good thing too. Because wouldn’t you know it? The first vein she tried to hit in the side of my wrist blew. Yep, that sucker busted. So, lucky me, I get to get poked again. This time it was on the top of my hand. OUCH!! But at least it’s in and no busted vein. YAY!!

Then I meet the anesthesiologist. He’s a super nice guy and he says he’s going to be my new best friend, at least for awhile. After all, he is giving me the drugs to make sure I feel no pain while the docs go in and do what they got to do. Yep, definitely my best friend.

Even after all of the assurances from the nurse, the anesthesiologist, the doctor, and my wonderful husband (who accompanied me to the hospital), I am still a nervous wreck. I can’t quit worrying. But what am I to do? Change my mind? Back out?

It did cross my mind to flag the nurse and tell her, “You know, I think I’m okay. I’ll just deal with my issues. There’s no reason to have surgery.” But nope, I was already there and prepped. Arrangements had been made at work. I needed to get over my fear and push forward.

At last the time had come.

My heart was pounding like crazy as they began to wheel me back. Shaun, my amazing and supportive husband was by my side. He leaned over and gave me a kiss–I was so scared it would be our last–and told me he loved me and he would see me when I came out of surgery. The last thing I remember was hearing the nurse tell him that he could wall halfway with us to the operating room.

You see, somewhere along the way, I had been given something to relax me. I don’t remember it but I was pretty nerve wracked at the time.

Anyway, from the moment the nurse told Shaun he could go halfway down the hall with us, I totally blanked out. Yes, blanked out, not blacked out. I wasn’t knocked out, oh no. Not me. I suddenly developed a case of diarrhea of the mouth.


From my husband’s own accounts, I was talking ninety to nothing, telling the nurse everything from our family planting a veggie garden to adding flowers to our flower beds to each of our kids and how they were doing in school, what they were doing after school, our dogs, our house and how we painted it last year, my job, my husband’s job, and on and on. Like I wouldn’t shut up. Apparently the nurse couldn’t even get a word in edgewise to tell me about her children.

My husband thought this was hilarious of course. He still laughs about it today and has to tell everyone he knows about how his wife was so high on meds that she talked everyone’s ear off.

Okay, so unbeknownst to me, I pass out, have surgery, and go to the recovery area. I remember nothing of this. But my next step is to be moved to my room. Again, I remember nothing. I vaguely recall being asked to move myself from the gurney to the hospital bed in my room but it is all a fog. So is the point when I got sick and threw up. It’s all kind of hazy. The next thing I remember is waking up and seeing the clock on the wall.


I was still alive! I had woken up!!

From this point on, I was kind of in and out.  Talking to my husband and the nurse–no idea what I said, and just trying to get my bearings straight. By 3 pm, I was doing pretty good. I could drink on my own, walk with help, and use the bathroom (although it felt like I was peeing razor blades thanks to a catheter). I was homeward bound!!

On the way home, we made a pit stop at a convenience store. I was starving. And so thirsty. A bottle of water and a snack and I was in Heaven.

Slipping into the recliner at home with a blanket and a pillow, I was good to go. A good friend of ours stopped by bearing a homemade pot pie. So good!!

I tried to sleep in out bed that first night. Our bed is really tall so I had to have a step stool and help just to get into it but I made it. However, I wouldn’t stay there long. I got too hot and felt sick. I don’t know if was the anesthesia or what but I felt really ill. So I managed to crawl out of our bed and make my way back into the living room where I slept in the recliner.

Oh it was so much better. The cool leather, the fan on my face. I was doing great. The only problem was that I couldn’t un-recline it on my own. Even when I got sick to my stomach and threw up all over myself.


(Yeah, I’m not not reliving that, not now, not ever…YUCK!!)

Which brings us to day 7 of my recovery.

Today,  I am no longer getting sick to my stomach. Thank goodness. I am not eating as much though. It feels like every time I eat anything, I feel full quicker and a little queasy to my stomach. I’ve been told that is a normal part of healing because of the swelling that is still around my abdomen.

It still hurts to cough and sneeze but nothing too serious.

I get winded when I walk too far but that is getting further and further everyday.

And I’m able to sit at angles without pain.

I don’t get a lot of sleep because I am so used to sleeping on my side–I’m a total side sleeper. (Or maybe I can but I am too aware of my stitches to try it yet).

The stitches are small, one in my belly button, one on either side of my groin area. They are beginning to itch which I take to mean they are healing. I have to keep reminding myself not to scratch them.

I’m doing great.


I am up and walking around as much as possible, writing, and even doing a few tiny things around the house. I am not going to overdo it though. The last thing I want to do is go back to the hospital. I’ve had enough of that place to last me a lifetime.

I am extremely grateful to everyone involved though. I couldn’t have asked for a better hospital staff. They did a marvelous job and helped me so much. I can’t thank them enough.

So there you go. Now you know my story about surviving surgery and my current road to recovery. I know I will only get better from here on out. And I’m sure that it was the best decision I could have made.

Thanks for stopping by and reading my post. I hope you have a great day!!


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