First, an update: Thanks so much for everyone who called or emailed to make sure I wasn't dead. I'm still not dead. In fact, the doctors seem to agree that there's nothing wrong with me - as long as it doesn't happen again.
It was great. I went to see my 'regular' doctor - who is a man I'd never met before. My 'regular' regular doctor had moved on to her own practice in a small town too far away about nine months ago, and the office assigned me this guy. But since then, I haven't gotten sick in the cold-and-flu kind of way. I've been seeing specialists (because, you know, I'm special). But the ER wanted me to see my 'regular' doctor. So I went and met the man. He looked over all my labs and test results, listened to my heart a whole bunch, and said, "Well . . ." Right. Not a damn thing wrong with me.
Do you do what I do? I mean, I'm really, SUPER glad there's not a damn thing wrong with me. I don't WANT to have major problems that require hospitalization, surgery, or a major adjustment to my everyday life. And my 'regular' doctor assured me i wasn't going to die anytime soon.
But still. I blew precious bull riding research time and a lot my disposable income on an afternoon in the ER, all for nothing. I feel like Chicken Little, but the sky never fell. It's still better this way, but I feel like an idiot. An idiot whose ticker is fine, but an idiot none the less.
Okay. So, I'm an idiot. But this is nothing new, and we're focusing on the power of positive thinking in this house. Seriously. My daily mantra is:
1. I look good.
2. I feel good.
3. I'm having a good day.
4. I am a New York Times best-selling author.
Seriously. It's on a piece of paper tacked up next to my view of the magnolia. I look at it a lot.
And you know what? I think it's working. My crazy body has been (relatively) calm since that little ER episode. I'm feeling good in my own skin. My week has been much, much better than the last one (dog barfing on my bedspread at 5:20 in the morning notwithstanding). The daffodils and the magnolia tree survived the snowstorm we had last week. The kid is getting better at controlling his bike. The hubby made cookies, brownies, and homemade lasagna (including homemade noodles!).
An agent requested the full manuscript of the Noseless Cowboy book, aka A Part of Her , yesterday. In her email, she said, "I liked those first few pages very much. Good solid writing. Wonderful voice for the heroine." That's the nicest thing anyone's said yet to date. Anyone I'm not related to, that is. Plus, I was doing a little research on this agent, and she'd said in a blog interview last year that she was looking for "new" westerns.
This could all work! This will all work! I have faith!