This blog was started to advertise my new book but I realized you might want to know more about what I do other than just writing books.
You can read my poems. my Flabbermouth stories and view my art. I hope this gives you a better idea of who I really am. I will share with you how I deal with chronic pain. Hopefully together we can help others.
My about page tells you more.
This is just a snipit from my book A Hairdresser’s Diary
While at home one day I decided to cut my hair, a common occurrence. With my scissors in hand I was cutting just above my ear. I thought I heard someone at the door. I turned my head to listen closer, realizing it might just be Cercie our cat. I turned my head back, which caused me to stab myself in the side of my head with the tip of my exceptionally sharp scissors. OUCH! Anyone knowing about scalp wounds knows how profusely they bleed. I had blood spurting like a small geyser from the small triangular wound. I felt it run down my ear and neck. Shock and panic set in. Holding my finger on the wound, I ran across the street to my neighbour. Without knocking, I ran into their house. Fiona fainted as soon as she saw the spurting blood. Her husband Dan came in and found her lying on the floor. Trying to calm me and revive his wife, he informed me Fiona fainted at the sight of blood. No kidding! I think I could have figured that out for myself. I apologized and in tears, I ran back home, unsure what to do next. Dan called after me wanting to make sure I was okay. Afraid to remove my finger from the hole, I called my doctor for advice. It was suggested I remove my finger, to check the bleeding.Yes, it had stopped, so I asked about a tetanus shot. Snickering, the nurse said, “I will ask the doctor as soon as he gets up off the floor from laughing!” I admit it was a painfully stupid thing to do. Ron shaking his head in total disbelief, said, “Honey if you want to commit seppuku (Japanese form of suicide via sword) you have to aim lower, a whole lot lower” and then he broke down hysterically laughing. The sore spot on my head was nothing to the unmerciful teasing I received from family, friends and co-workers. Someone walked past me at work and whispered, “Snip, snip,” then smiled and winked. One of the other girls yelled across the room, “Anyone got scissors in their head, oh I mean hand,” every one would burst out laughing including me.