Bruises and More Research

What is playing on the iPod? Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin

Let me get this out of the way before I start on the topic I originally intended. My oldest child has an appointment at Duke today. This morning, I was in the bathroom with both children and I pulled my shirt sleeve up. My last entry, I commented on the warning from the phlebotomist before she went in my forearm about how the blood would pool under the skin and I needed to apply pressure. Four days later and I have a pretty sizable, deep purple bruise.

Logan saw my arm this morning and said "Mama! What happened?"

"Oh, that is where I had blood drawn last week." That comment was innocent enough. No big trauma, just a simple blood draw. Until I heard the gasp.

Carson looked at my arm like a deer caught in the headlights. That was not one of my brighter moments. I tried to cover quickly, explaining that this was a special circumstance, sticks in the bend of the elbow (antecubital) do not bruise like that. Carson still looked like he wanted to throw up.

At least this psychological trauma did not involve anything Joan Crawford-ish (wire hangers!) or any "Luke, I am your father" revelations.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I have been researching lately. Book two is at a point where the details have to be researched to make sure there is factual basis for what I have written. For instance, I have discovered that as long as the cells used are adult and not embryonic, the Catholic church generally has no problem with stem cell research. I know the different types of and treatment for pneumothorax. I know types of spiritual entities and what makes them different. That particular search got a little hairy. Some sites I pulled up made me want to dunk my computer in holy water.

I still have some research left to do and roughly five unfinished chapters and then the real work begins. Editing. I continually do this along the way. Whenever I pull my files up, I always read what I wrote last and correct errors and do my rewording, etc. What this basically means is that I see a finish line, I have the baton in my hand and I am running like hell.

So at 9:11 on December 15, I am going to go refill the coffee, do some tweaking on Rebecca and hope like a son of a bitch that I did not scar my child too badly this morning.

Until next time.