Showing posts with label doctor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doctor. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Dear Dr. Transphobic Asshole

This is a portion of the letter that I wrote to my Transgender/LGBTQ/AIDS Advocate/Social Worker at the end of this post is the letter that I'm considering sending to the Transphobic Asshole Doctor named "Tara":

So, today I went up to the VA Emergency Department for my knee. I knew that I had probably twisted it or done some damage to it over the weekend and at Cherie's insistence I went to the ER, two hours before my appointment with Brandi. When I arrived I made sure that they knew that I had a previously scheduled appointment and they said that they'd make sure that I got to my appointment on time. So I was called back to the hospital room and put inside. An hour later (about 30 minutes before my appointment with Brandi) I was still waiting in the room. No one had been by to check on me or even to stick their head in the door. This wasn't too shocking as the VA oftentimes will stick a patient who isn't critical in a room and leave them there for over an hour, but I thought that they would take quicker care of me, seeing as how they knew of my other appointment.

Anyway, I eventually got up and hobbled up to the front desk and informed the receptionist there that I had another appointment that I had to get to and that I would be back, when it was over but that I absolutely could not miss my appointment. He asked me to wait a few minutes for the charge nurse to show up and I agreed. No sooner did our conversation end when I heard my name being said by one of the doctors, my legal name, the one that it's in the system but also has a notation in the field that states that I am to be called: Vicktor or Vic.

I figure it will be quicker for me to just put it in dialogue form the conversation with Doctor Tara, the doctor mentioned above, and her colleague.

Dr. Tara: I'm supposed to see somebody named...Veronica. Why the hell does it say Vic in here?
Colleague: Oh yeah, I saw her last week. Her legal name is Veronica, but she goes by Vic and everyone calls her Vic.
Dr. Tara: Why?
Colleague: Because she's transgender, so I guess she's a he. So his name is Vic, that's what we call him.
Dr. Tara: Oh no! Are you serious? I've got one of them?
Colleague: (blushing slightly because he saw me) I just saw Vic last week for...chest pains, right Vic?
Me: Yeah.

Dr. Tara looked at me and gave me a look of disgust and that's when I told her that I had another appointment to be at and that I had to leave but that I would be back after that.

She informed me that she'd rather see me first and then then have me get sent down for X-Rays and then for me to go to see Brandi. I had no problem with this and agreed. So Dr. Tara led me back to the very room I'd just left out of and asked me what had happened to my knee, I explained it to her and then when we got in the room, I wasn't told to sit down or anything so I could be examined properly, I was asked to roll up my pants leg and my knee was barely touched by her before she went to the sink and scrubbed her hands furiously as she explained that it didn't feel swollen but that she would call for an X-ray. Now, I don't know if she knows something I don't and being transgender is actually contagious, I'm not sure why she felt she had to scrub her hands so hard, but I do know that I felt beyond offended at her actions. 

I wish I could tell you that the story ended there, but it didn't.

When I went in to go get my X-Ray (which I had to walk to-on my bad knee which is also on the same leg as my sprained ankle) the X-Ray tech there (whose name is Zach I believe) didn't even have mypaperwork, he had someone else's, because while they'd sent me down there, they hadn't given him the right information about who I was, what name I'm supposed to be called, questions to avoid asking me and even  which knee was the injured one. So when Zach finished with me he told me that he had to take me back to the ER, now I'd been told that when I finished in the ER I was supposed to go straight to my appt, Zach had been told to bring me back there. So he led me in and I brought up that he'd told me to come back in. With a sigh of disgust and a huge amount of attitude Dr. Tara said, "No, I told you to go straight to your appointment."

So I went.

When my appt was over I returned to the ER to get the results of my X-Ray (which I knew that if they wanted an accurate diagnosis of what was wrong with my knee that I should've had a MRI done, especially since I'd informed Dr. Tara that I'd torn my miniscus tendon in this same knee ten years before and had never had the surgery for it done. I walked into the ER, filled out the paperwork to let them know I was back for my results and sat and waited. I'd come in at about 12:10, by 1:00pm, my sister Cherie was livid, because I was supposed to have taken the DAV (the transportation for veterans, which is who had brought me in and with whom I was supposed to have take me home) home, but I'd missed them and it was too late. My name was still never called. By this point my knee is throbbing, I'm annoyed, Cherie is annoyed and I've told her about the doctor's initial reaction to me and she's already put in a few calls to people. Carissa, the OIF (Operation Iraqi Freedom) worker assigned to me, has come down to the ER to check on me, it's now 1:30pm. She tells me about the phone call for Cherie, that she's going to try and get me home, that she was sorry for all that I'd endured, etc., etc., etc. Then she says that she's going to go and check and see what the problem is. As soon as she steps into the back and asks a question, Dr. Tara comes in and says she doesn't know why they didn't come and get her, that they'd gotten my X-Ray results two hours before. She tells me that the X-Rays came back fine and so I probably just twisted it and she's going to go and get me a brace. I go to follow her so she can put it on and she tells me to wait at the door. She comes back with two braces. One she says is a medium, the other she says is a large. She looks at my knee and, again, barely touches it as she tries to see which size will fit me, she tells me I need a large and that I'd have to "take all that off" (and gestures at my pants and the bottom half of my body with a sneer on her face) and that she'll just give me the brace so I can put it on. And then she practically shoves the brace in a bag that says it's a "large", but as we found out later was actually a "medium" in a large bag, and rushes off as if the hounds of hell were on her behind.

M, man, honestly, had I known that transgenderism was contagious, I would've worn a mask or something.

I did report her to the Patient's Advocate and Michele apologized to me on behalf of the hospital and said that the doctor would be given a "stern talking to," but honestly, even though the military is far more progressive today than it was when I was in there, even though DADT has been repealed, even though this hospital and this VA is a ton more accepting than the one I came from in Florida, I still know that they'll talk to her so that it can be put in her file, but that there are some people who would be silently applauding her for treating the "tranny" like she did.a

I am not typically a blood-thirsty, you made me mad and almost made me cry and now you must lose your job, type of person, but I told Cherie that I want Dr. Tara to lose her job. I'm already having to attend the "Mental Health" department just because I am trans and I grew up in the household/family that I did and trying to balance my truth with their angry voice. And I'm there because of my disabilities and how that affects me not being able to find a job that's understanding with my injuries. So with having this............................."doctor" treat me the way she did? Cherie had to put a call in to Brandi and let her know.

That was moments before we found out that the brace given to me or rather shoved at me, was the wrong size.

Cherie is going down to the VA tomorrow to have it out with them and get me a new brace, but she suggested that I tell you to see if you had any ideas about what else, if anything, I should do. She wants to contact the local LGBTQ chapter, the HRC chapter (she even teased about contacting the news station) and like I said, honestly, I'm not usually the one out for blood like this, but what if I'd been a fragile teenager? What if I was already suicidal and she said that?

I want her suspended or fired. I want a true apology. I want.....to feel vindicated, like she truly leaned her lesson and would never do that again.

So any thoughts?




Dear Dr. Transphobic Asshole:

I'm sorry that you're being chewed out by your boss.

And the Patient Advocate people.

And my sister Cherie, I'm sure that's the scariest moment in the world for you.

But you should be happy. My dad is way more scarier. And my older siblings are very protective of me.

You know you were wrong and that you must pay. I won't ask for your life as payment, because I do want to live again, but, I want your job.

Because if we'd had that situation a few months ago, if you had reacted in August, in October the way you reacted today, our little "misunderstanding" then I would have tried to kill myself.

You have to understand that words and reactions carry weight and power and strength.

Your words can kill a person, can maim and bruise them, destroy them.

Words are so fucking heartbreaking it's almost ridiculous.

And I was going to take it easy and call off the Calvary, but then I remembered that, I could've been a teenager that you'd said that too and that's unacceptable.

So I'm sorry that I got the LGBTQ community involved. Sorry that people want to call the HRC. Sorry that my sister called my therapist, the hospital administrator and everyone else that she could think of and reported you. Sorry that an apology from you to me, just isn't enough at this point.

You see I may be transgender, but I'm one badass transgender, dominating bastard with a lot of people supporting me and backing me up and a lot of people fighting for me.

This time, you fucked with the wrong one.

Sincerely,

VICKTOR ALEKSANDR B.

Friday, September 16, 2011

My Major Flaw

I am a very flawed individual.

You know it, I know it, my parents know it, hell even the government knows it.  I haven't tried to hide it and I have no problem shining a light on those flaws and uncertainties and and my weaknesses.

It's what makes me so approachable and lovable....I think.

Anyway, my major flaw is how unbearably clingy I can be.

I'm serious.

It's like a real sickness.  I'm not like a "You can't spend time with anyone but me," but I definitely have these moments of "Why aren't you talking to me?  Don't you like me anymore?  What did I do wrong?" if a few days go by and I haven't heard from you but I've written you.

The biggest issue is that you'll NEVER know that I'm having these thoughts, these doubts about my importance to you, that you actually like me or want to know me or hang with me or whatever.  I talked to my doctor about it yesterday and he just gets this really serious look on his face and says: "Well Vic (he calls me Vic-*sigh*-it's why I love him), why do YOU think you have these fears, these insecurities and doubts of your worth to others?"

Damn doctor.

That's how they work.  They get you to "fix" yourself.  If I could do that why am I having the government pay you all of this money to do it for me?  LOL.

Anyway, so I answer the doctor with a "Um..probably because of my parents."  Then we get into that whole issue.

I grew up knowing that if I did that one big thing that my parents didn't approve of that I'd be disowned.  So for most of my life I played the part of the perfect daughter while doing all of my dirt on the side.  When I realized that I was getting caught anyway and they were getting all upset over it, I stopped trying to hide most of it and was very outspoken and upfront about it.

Almost all of it.

When I came out I knew that I was going to lose people, I expected my parents to disown me, I hoped that they wouldn't, but I expected it.  I figured a few of my "Christian friends" would stop talking to me.  I hoped that they wouldn't, but I prepared myself for when they did.  I wasn't expecting the whole extreme condemnation, but again, not too much of a shock there.

However, when people who initially supported me then turn around and stop supporting me or stop talking to me or just ignore me completely?  Well, those old insecurities and fears pop back up.

What did I do wrong?  How can I make it better?  Am I being too suffocating?  Too clingy?  Too...whatever.  So then it becomes the whole "Maybe I shouldn't have come out,  maybe I shouldn't be making this decision, this major life choice.  I should just stay female, stay a straight female and be miserable."

Yes, one tap of doubt and the whole house of cards can come tumbling down.

So anyway, I've been like this, my whole life I guess.  I second guess almost everything.  Oh, I'm blunt and I'm honest (brutally so), but I doubt myself the whole time after it's over.  Before every email I bite my lip, chew my thumb nail but send it without making changes, and then I sit and wonder if I can get the email back.

So when I'm writing a book I'm like 10 times worse and then when it comes to a relationship or a friendship? *Rolls eyes* Well, let's just say I get on my OWN nerves.

The thing is, I know I need reassurance, I'm not fishing for compliments because I'm vain or because I have a major pride or arrogance issue, I need reassurance because hell, I was ignored growing up.  I was punished for things that weren't my fault, berated, criticized and insulted by my own father and had my mother play a very passive role in letting it happen.  And I know that at 27 these things shouldn't still be affecting me, but they do.

You see, my father's voice has become my own and I have to actively silence the doubts in my own head about myself.  And no, I don't need to be reassured that I'm like or loved or beautiful or talented everyday, because it loses its sincerity after a while and it becomes extremely draining.  Trust me I know because I do that for others.  But I think that's why I need it.

I play the part of the supporter, the encourager, the uplifter.  It's something I love doing and I do it well.  But you know what?  When I'm supporting someone I stupidly think that they're going to support me in return.  Some of them do.  A lot of them do.  And I learn who I can turn to when I need that boost of confidence, who's going to cheer me on from the sidelines and I go to them for that, but then that paranoia comes back and it's like am I annoying them?  Asking them to encourage me too much?  Am I draining them?

*Sigh*

So most of the time, I don't ask and I don't share and I won't come to you and ask you if I've done something to annoy you or bother you or if you're mad at me, I'll just bow out gracefully.  Maybe not the most mature thing.  Maybe not the best thing to do, but I don't even want to bother you by asking you if I'm bothering you, because won't that just bother you?  (Could you follow that?)

Once in a blue moon I'll ask someone if they're mad at me when I haven't heard from them in a while and usually once I do that I stress so much about it that I have to walk away from my computer or my phone.  It's not a great way to be and yes, it sort of makes me feel crazy (although my doctor assured me that I'm not.  "It's perfectly normal for someone who has been through what you've been through to feel this way").  But, that's just it, I'd have to explain everything I've been through to everyone that I get close to so that they'd understand those moments when I tell them "You probably won't hear from me for like two days, I need to just be by myself" or when I ask "Am I bothering you too much?  Being too smothering?  Too stalkerish/crazy person?"  But usually when they hear what I've been through they can't handle it and they walk away.

It's a damn cache-22.

So, I take to my blog, I tell those who I know suffer through the same insecurities, the same fears, the same paranoias and I let them ease that fear or give me advice: "Just ask him."  "Just text her and see."  "Vee, you're not crazy, you're a caring supportive person, you just want to continue to be that way and if you weren't a caring and supportive person then you wouldn't care about if you were smothering or annoying someone."

*Sigh*

It's a flaw, a major, annoying flaw, that need for reassurance, for someone, anyone to give a damn, to care and then to pretend as if I don't need it.  To ignore my brain and my heart yelling for me to make sure that I haven't crossed a line or to make sure that I'm not being too pushy.  To go on like nothing's wrong and that it doesn't kill me or tear my heart to shreds when an email from me goes unanswered for a week or two but others are being responded to.  When a voicemail from me gets deleted or a call gets ignored from my cell number but you answer someone else's.  And yes, if I were talking to someone else, I'd be all like "Just ask them what's going on.  I'm sure there's an explanation, they wouldn't just stop talking to you or ignoring you, you're an awesome person and they're a total jackass if they don't see that."  But that's me talking to you, giving you truth.

I don't necessarily feel that way about myself.

So I was talking on messenger with Kate and on the phone with Jack and I'm telling them both about this insecurity I'm having and about how I'm so unsure about whether or not to ask or talk to this person and how I really just need to get this whole, this is me, take it or leave it, I'm an insecure, selfless, possessive, protective, loyal, empathetic bitch thing off my chest and Kate tells me to message the person.

Jack tells me to write a blog...and message this person.

So I did both.

So yes, I am insecure, possessive, protective, loyal, empathetic, selfless bitch who will forever be independent and do things for myself but will silently be screaming for reassurance and love and caring and encouragement.

That's just me.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Ouch!

"I do not have to accept you.  The law may have to give you certain rights, but I don't have agree or accept your choice and your new found lifestyle."  These words are still ringing in my ears even though my mother said them to me an hour ago.

Let me back up.

I had an appointment with the VA at 0945.

I forgot.

Blame my pain meds, I took a cyclobenzaprine and it's 10mg and it always knocks me out.  I didn't wake up until 0900 and it took 15 minutes for the fog to clear and then I wanted to finish my paperwork for my SSI disability stuff.  So anyway, I didn't remember my appointment until my mother knocked on my door and came into my bedroom to hand me the phone where my doctor was calling to make sure I was okay.  This is because the last time I missed an appointment with her it was because I'd fallen out of the bed and was laying on the ground for two hours in pain-yeah, my family didn't realize I was down there-sucks, *shrug* but it's life-now I always have my cane on hand as well as my cellphone-I'm not a complete invalid but when you have a back and a hip injury and you're already laying on the edge of the bed because your clean laundry is on the other side of the bed, because you just felt too lazy to do it?  Yeah rolling off the bed isn't unfeasible.  My cane was by the wall next to my chair, my cell was in the kitchen-I've since learned to conquer my laziness and do my laundry in its entirety before bed. LOL.

So, my mother hands me the phone and then she notices the brochures, notes, websites, papers, groups, etc. related to transgender, bi-gender and transsexuals and related to gender reassignment surgery.  I noticed her noticing and my stomach dropped, my heart leaped into my throat and tears came to my eyes.  I know that I should have been more optimistic, but I also know my family and my mother, she was livid, so mad she was shaking (yeah, you see where I get it from).  She let me finish my call and then she started in on me.

Mom:  Vee, what's this?
Vee:  A brochure.
Mom:  I know it's a brochure.
Vee:  So why'd you ask what it was? (I told you I'm rebellious and a bitch, even with my mom sometimes)
Mom:  Don't get smart with me young lady (since when am I a young lady?), why do you have this filth in my house?
Vee:  It's not porn Marmie.  It's brochures about gender reassignment surgery, transgenders, bi-genders, transsexuals-
Mom:  It's about homosexuality and saying that God made a mistake when He made you a girl.
Vee:  No, I'm saying society made a mistake when they said I could ONLY be a girl.  God made me both and you said He never mistakes.
Mom:  So you're saying God made you this way?
Vee:  I don't understand.  You tell people that people are born gay, but I can't be born bi-gender?
Mom:  No.
Vee:  Why?
Mom:  Because you're my child.  No child of mine is gay or bi anything.  I raised you to know better.
Vee:  I'm still me!  None of that has changed!  I'm still the same girl I was yesterday and last week and last month and last year.  Nothing about me has changed except I'm more comfortable in my skin.  I'm on my way to being happy.  Don't you want me to be happy?
Mom:  Not if you're going to be happy on Earth only to wind up in hell.
Vee:  *rolling eyes* So now I'm going to hell?  There's no verse in the Bible that says I'd go to hell for having my sex changed.
Mom:  But there's one about homosexuality.
Vee:  Don't go there.  You read the paper I wrote on that, so you know you're wrong.  Besides, since you say I was only born a girl, I'd still be having sex with men, just with a penis.  So think of it this way.  They'd be gay, I'd still be straight.
Mom:  Don't joke with me.
Vee:  Don't turn your back on me and condemn me to hell and stop loving me because I'm different.
Mom: I'll never stop loving you Vee *sigh* You know that.
Vee:  You just won't accept me...
(silence)
Mom:  I do not have to accept you.  The law may have to give you certain rights, but I don't have agree or accept your choice and your new found lifestyle.
(silence)
Vee:  I don't want to talk about this anymore.
Mom:  Okay, but you know that I won't accept this, if you get this done, to me you will forever be my daughter and I won't let up until you get the surgery reversed and you know your stepfather-
Vee:  What about him?
Mom:  If you get it done, he'll want nothing else to do with you.
Vee:  Meaning, I'll have to move out and find another place to stay.
Mom: (shrug)
Vee:  Can you just go please?

Then she walked out.  This conversation is etched in my brain.  I wish I could say this is the first time my mother has told me that my stepfather is going to "kick me out" and she's going to support him, but it's not.  I am painfully aware that I am no longer a priority in my mother's life and that's as it should be.  I'm an adult and really only living here because all of my benefits and disability money isn't enough to sustain me living on my own right now.  But if I did?  I wouldn't be here and this wouldn't be an issue.

I'm not telling you all this to garner sympathy.  I don't need it.  I knew that this was a possible outcome when I went to see the doctor.  I'm telling you all this so that you can come to the same realization that I did.  My family's opinion of me doesn't matter.  My opinion of myself is all that matters.  Me.  I can't make THEM happy and myself miserable, trying to please everyone is what leads to depression and thoughts of suicide and suicide attempts and all manner of things that you do to ease the pain of pleasing everyone but yourself.  I have to please me.  I have to make me happy first and then and only then can I worry about everyone else.

I'll probably have to come back and read this myself a few times over the next couple of years just to remind myself of this truth.  But I can do that.  What I can't do is continue to live for others.  I must live for myself.

So while my mother's words induced an "Ouch!" reaction in my heart, it didn't shatter my spirit or destroy my soul as I thought it would be and to me, that's a victory in itself.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Inconceivable: Part Three

Part Three:

     Tommy woke up to pain.  Excruciating, blinding, heart-stopping, breath-stealing pain.  For a moment it was all he could think about.  The pain started at his head and worked all the way down his....what the fuck?  Did his dick hurt too?  He groaned and realized at that point that there were other people in the room with him.  The extremely deep voice of a man, the sexiest voice he'd ever heard, and a lighter, softer, more melodious sound of a woman.  Maybe they were the doctor and the nurse?  Maybe he was in the hospital?  That would make sense if he was run over by a Mac truck like he felt.
     "Baby?  Did you make a noise?  Please baby, respond...say something," he heard the man say and his heart pounded in his chest.  Baby?  Why was this man calling him baby?  That seemed a little inappropriate coming from his doctor.  He struggled to remember what had happened to him, where he was, who this man could be....he remembered....getting ready to move in with someone....a man, a big man....Anton!  Anton Forrester, the wolf shifter....oh yeah, they were on the road, they'd made it all the way to Virginia and then....he gasped as he remembered walking into the restroom.  He began thrashing on the bed, moaning and screaming as he relived the horror of his attack.
     "No!  No!  No!!" he screamed, tears rolling down his face, his mouth open and gasping for air, his arms and his legs thrashing about wildly as he tried to fight off his invisible attackers.
     "Tommy!  Baby!  Wake up!  You're safe.  I'm here,  they're gone.  I promise.  C'mon baby, please open your eyes, please," he heard the man say and instantly soothed.  His eyes popped open and he sat up quickly in pain, wincing in agony.  He looked around the room wildly and he saw Ton sitting on the bed next to him, his hands clutching his shoulders.  He threw himself into the bigger man's arms, uncaring of his injuries, unmindful of his appearance.
     "Oh god Ant!" he cried as he clutched the other man's shirt desperately, scrambling to climb up into the cowboy's lap.  He heard the other man making shushing noises in an effort to calm him and felt Ton's hands hold onto him firmly.  When another, more slender hand touched his back before rubbing his hair he stiffened and jerked away.
     "Tommy!  Baby!  It's okay.  It's just my sister, Luci.  She's a doctor, I called her and asked her to meet us here, to help you!" Ton stated frantically.
     Tommy looked over at the woman and assessed her.  She stood at his height, with long brown hair that fell to the middle of her back, a small pert nose, pink lips, a delicate almost disarming frame of body, with curves in all the right places, and as his eyes traveled back up he saw her eyes, her startling blue eyes.  Those eyes, filled with kindness, sadness for what he'd been through, anger at his attackers, sympathy for his anguish, and concern over his injuries, filled him with peace and he calmed instantly.  He heard Ton chuckle and looked over at him, much more calm and serene, more aware of his surroundings than he had been upon first waking.
     "Luci is an omega.  She has this ability to make people feel at ease and at peace.  It's sort of a special...gift she has.  I haven't seen her use it on a human in a while," Ton explained and Tommy nodded.  So Luci was a wolf shifter too.
     "Are they dead?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion, raspy from screaming.  He saw Ton and Luci exchange looks before Ton answered him.
     "No, they're not.  They were injured pretty bad though, had to be put into the hospital, both for their injuries and because they said they saw the wolf that attacked them turn into a human before he picked up the other man in the bathroom, the one that they'd beat up," the Texan growled.
     Tommy's eyebrows lifted in amazement, "They confessed to beating me up?"
     "In their confusion and hysteria, yeah, they did," Ton said with a smile.  Tommy merely nodded again and looked around the room, before his eyes landed on the pamphlet on the table.
     "Mississippi?" he read aloud and looked over at Ton.  "We're in Mississippi?"
     Ton nodded and swallowed thickly.  "I tried to nurse you myself, but you were getting worse.  You wouldn't wake up, I wasn't sure if you were even alive.  I took you to the hospital, but they wanted to keep you overnight and wouldn't let me see you.  So I sneaked out with you and kept driving.  My sister was visiting a friend of hers here in Mississippi so we just met up here so she could care for you."
     Tommy looked over at Luci who merely smiled at him before answering, "I stitched you up, gave you a shot for the pain, wrapped your ribs, your wrist, your ankle.  I even had to bandage your head for a while."
     Tommy's hands flew to his hair and began to run through his curls frantically.  Ton grasped his hands and pulled them down.  "Don't worry, nothing was shaved or anything," he reassured him.  Tommy breathed a sigh of relief and crawled back up into the big wolf's lap before reaching out a hand to Luci.
     "Thank you so much," he said to her with a small smile.  He breathed a sigh of relief and felt exhaustion sweep back over him, he tried to fight against it, wanting the chance to get to know Luci but more than that, wanting to spend time with his wolf, his hero, his mate.  The thought of being Ton's mate didn't scare him as much anymore.  He'd survived a horrific attack because of this man, his man.  An attack he received because people couldn't accept the fact that everyone is different, and that which they saw as being socially normal was actually humanly abnormal.  Differences were what made up the human race, similarities were what made up drones and clones.
     "Get some sleep baby, we'll still be here when you wake up," he heard Ton's voice say and without another thought, he drifted off to sleep.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Passion's Hero: The Beta Prince (Update)

I’m almost finished with book two of the Passion’s Hero series, “The Beta Prince.”  I’m amazed at how quickly the books are developing.  I was planning on sending book one off and THEN starting on book two, but it’s looking as if I’m going to have two books done before I get a definite response from the publishers.
Meanwhile, I did something a little nutty (I know, no surprise there).  I have created Facebook accounts for all of the main characters (the different heroes) from the Passion’s Hero series.  Talon Versuthion, Blazell Roughshire, Buckington Roughshire, Percival Taunton, Mailon Saungfreid, Duke Mufariso, Trenton Versuthion, Rico Suavez, Tuvarion Versuthion, Franklin Mufariso, and Sutton Castezi are all on Facebook.  They talk and conversate just as if they were real.
Just thought I’d let you all know, just in case you wanted to friend them ahead of time.  Once the books get covers I’ll be able to give them all profile pictures, but for now they don’t have any.
Hope everyone has been doing well this last week.  Between writing and suffering majorly from insomnia and listening to my idiot doctor who wants to schedule me for an EKG because I “MIGHT” have CHF (Congestive Heart Failure), I haven’t been able to blog like I want, but it’s not because I haven’t thought about it, I have, I just haven’t gotten around to doing it.
Also, if you all want something really good to read (you know while you’re waiting for my books to be published), may I suggest the Midnight Matings Series by Gabrielle Evans, Joyee Flynn and Stormy Glenn or The Brac Pack Series by Lynn Hagen.  I’m addicted to both series, I’m talking about buying it as soon as it’s available and downloading it the moment I can “addicted.”  Between those and EVERY single book written by Mary Calmes, T.A. Chase, J.L Langley and Stephani Hecht, I spend quite a bit of time reading (usually when I’m trying to get some sleep).
So I hope you all are doing well.  Hugs and Kisses!  And by the way The Passion’s Hero series is going to be published under the author name: VVee Bailey or just VVee.
Which do you all suggest?

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Chapter One of My Book "Whole Pieces of a Broken Heart"

Chapter One
Six months earlier
Dr. Matthew Bailey smiled and waved good bye to Mrs. Escaban as she waddled out of the front door of his private obstetrics office. Chuckling softly to himself at the thought that he was the palest Dr. Huxtable in the world, Matthew turned to his last patient of the day and found himself staring….he also found himself not breathing and when he finally took in a breath, it sounded like a gasp. When she looked up at him, Matthew found that his entire body was enflamed with heat. Trying to shake off his weird reaction to the expectant mother, he pasted a smile on his face and tried to ignore his libido.
“Mrs. Riley?” he questioned as he stepped forward with his hand outstretched for a handshake.
“Ms Riley. But please call me Kyra, I mean you’re going to become very intimate with the most private part of me,” the beautiful mother-to-be stated.
Chuckling at her too true statement, Matthew briefly allowed his eyes to take inventory of the treasure in front of him. She was taller than most women, but shorter than his own six foot three stature. He’d put her around 5’8”. She had the most beautiful dark brown skin color, like milk chocolate, his favorite dessert. Her body was curved in all the right places, she wasn’t model thin, but she wasn’t too thick either, she was in a word…perfect, even with her stomach distended with pregnancy.
Seeing her head cocked to the side, with her shoulder length black and brown streaked hair falling over one shoulder, he realized that he was standing there holding her hand and gawking at her like a horny teenager. At least the teenager part is wrong, he admonished himself, as he coughed before showing her into his examining room. She didn’t waddle like the rest of his patients, but that could be because she wasn’t as far along as the rest of his patients. However, she was still very graceful to be pregnant, she walked gracefully even if she weren’t pregnant, she must be a dancer or took ballet at some point, Matt reasoned. Barely glancing at her chart as he asked her to have a seat in the chair in front of his desk, he replayed all that he knew of her case.
25 years old, 14 weeks pregnant, moved here from another base in Virginia with her husband who had that fatal accident a few months back, living in a suburban area right outside of Boston, here for her first sonogram, looking at her face as she looked over the paper he’d placed in front of her about her diet and admitted to himself, and stunningly gorgeous. When she looked up, he hastily looked down as if perusing her chart and ran his fingers through his thick black hair before looking back up at her, his erratic hormones finally under control.
“Well Ms Riley, are you ready to hear your baby’s heartbeat?” he questioned, his friendly doctor smile back on his face.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, and I thought I told you to call me Kyra?” she smiled.
“Okay, well Kyra, let’s go meet this little one.”
The two of them stood up from their seats and walked into the examining room. Matt helped Kyra up onto the examining table and placed the Fetal Doppler on her stomach to listen to the baby’s heartbeat. Trying to focus on his job, Matt began to smile as he heard the baby’s heartbeat.
“Well Kyra, your baby is healthy…wait, I mean your babies are healthy,” he said.
“My what?” Kyra screeched.
Matt turned to Kyra. “Ms Riley, you’re having twins,” he stated a smile on his face.
Matt watched in amused silence as Kyra’s eyes closed in shock and then widened in awe. Her mouth opened and closed as if she was talking but no words were forthcoming. Finally her hand touched her baby bump and she swallowed hard.
“I’m having twins? That’s amazing! Not improbable, twins run in my family, on both sides, but I just never thought….I mean…I never figured….this is just incredible! I mean it’s a good thing right? I mean I can handle it financially. I mean, oh my gosh! That‘s why Maria said I was showing really early huh? This is so great!” Kyra stated in a stuttering manner.
Matt just continued smiling as Kyra slowly came to the realization that she was indeed having twins. Turning to him, she threw her arms around him and hugged him with all of her might.
“Oh thank you! Thank you Dr. Matt!!” she exclaimed.
Laughing outright, Matt went against his usual protocol and hugged her back. As the two hugged, the hug slowly changed from one of friendly excitement to something infinitely more intimate. Even though he knew that it was wrong, Matt could not make himself pull away from her. When the two of them finally did separate they were both very much aware of the other. Clearing his throat, Matt smiled nervously at Kyra and opened his mouth to say something about her diet and pregnancy and what to expect when she shocked him by speaking first.
“Well, I guess my libido isn’t dead huh? I haven’t been that attracted to someone for a long time,” she stated matter of factly, pulling her shirt down and cocking her head to the side in wondering amazement.
Matt spluttered in shock. He couldn’t believe that she’d said that! I mean, a person would have to be blind, deaf, dumb, and half-dead to not notice the sexual tension and attraction that was flowing between the two of them, but he’d never remark on it.
“Ms Riley-”he began.
“Kyra,” she corrected.
“Kyra,” he amended, “It is perfectly normal for a pregnant woman’s sexual urges to increase as the pregnancy advances, sometimes it disappears all together. Every woman is different.”
“Dr. Matt,” she chuckled as she started to slide off of the examining table, “I don’t care about other women that you’ve dealt with, I know me and I know my body. What I experienced wasn’t because of the pregnancy; it was because of me finding you extremely attractive.”
Matt could only stare as she stood before him, an angelic smile on her face, making her almost ethereally beautiful. His heart pounded in his chest as he considered that for just a moment she might actually kiss him. He thought about that as his eyes alighted on her full thick lips. He’d seen some big lips, but hers weren’t just big, they were shapely and…..juicy. He could imagine feasting on her lips all day long. As his eyes began to close he watched as her head lifted to receive his kiss. Hearing someone clear their throat had him jumping back quickly and trying desperately to hide his burning red face and calm his pounding heart as he went to respond to his assistant.
“Yes Mrs. Eslinger?” he asked.
“Mrs. Bailey is on the phone for you,” Mrs. Eslinger stated.
“Mrs. Bailey?” he heard Kyra whisper behind him, her words sounding hurt.
“My mother,” he stated to her before turning back to his assistant, “Can you tell her I’ll call her back.” Not daring to look into why he felt that he had to explain himself to his patient…..that he’d almost kissed.
“Yes doctor,” his assistant smiled, and he knew that she’d be grilling him about Miss Riley when the office closed.
“Well doctor, I better let you go,” Kyra said, and as he turned to her, he was shocked again as she kissed him lightly on his lips.
“See you next time doctor,” she smiled as she walked out the door.
Matthew stood in silent shock as she walked out his door before giving into the weakness that had settled into his limbs and collapsed into his chair. The woman was forward, brazen, blunt….in a word, amazing.
“You did what?” her best friend screeched on the phone.
Pulling the phone away from her ear at her best friend’s squeal, Kyra walked around her kitchen collecting all of the things that she needed for her special meal: apples, strawberries, oranges, grapes, chocolate syrup, bananas, pickles, kiwi and sliced turkey mixed together in a bowl. Hmmm, I’ll be glad when this pregnancy thing is over, these cravings are killing me, she thought to herself before turning off the light in her gourmet kitchen and walking on bare feet to her breakfast nook. Sitting down with her legs stretched out on the window seat where she sat, Kyra waited until her best friend Marie finished her Spanish ranting. Hearing her tirade draw to a close with “stupido,” Kyra swallowed the mouthful of her “special” salad and spoke.
“Mi amiga, I couldn’t help myself. He was muy caliente! I felt as if he were mi Corazon, mi amore. He was standing there, looking at me and all I could think about was kissing him to satisfy my curiosity. I think he may be the only man capable of giving me le petite morte,” smiling widely Kyra spoke in Spanish, Italian and French.
She and Maria were both multi-lingual and relished learning new languages just for the heck of it. Maria was born in Madrid, Spain and moved to the States when she was 10. She immediately met Kyra at school and having a heart of compassion and selflessness, the young girl took Maria under her wing and showed her the ropes of attending an American school. The two of them set about teaching the other different aspects of their own culture and their biological languages. Maria taught Kyra Spanish and Kyra taught Maria Italian which was what her father spoke. When they entered high school they both chose to learn French since they knew they would be cheating if they chose Spanish or Italian. After taking four years of the language, for their graduation presents they both asked their parents for a trip to Europe. They backpacked around France, England, and Spain. It was there that they both came to a realization of what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. Maria loved art, art history, and the culture of the arts and promptly took up Art History in college to become an Art Curator. Many people felt as if she was overlooking her own artistic beauty, at 6’1”, Maria stood out in a crowd, but it wasn’t only her height that got her noticed. With her tan skin, thin frame and beautiful Spanish features, Maria’s parents had pushed her to model. Maria hadn’t wanted to be known for her looks, however, and had gone on to become one of the most successful and well-known authorities on art and artists. She hadn’t regretted one minute of her decision since she made it. She and Kyra took every summer to go to some foreign country and learn some of the language and the culture; it was their own special tradition.
Kyra’s story was a little different. She was raised by her aunt and her grandmother from the time she was eight, since her parents were both killed in the line of duty while serving in the military. The government sent her two checks and she received two Purple Hearts to honor the passing of her parents. Her aunt and grandmother were wise, however and invested the money that Kyra was sent by the government. By the time that Kyra was in high school she had so much money she was known as the “rich girl.” Her aunt married Kyra’s Chemistry teacher when Kyra was a junior in high school and they, along with her grandmother, really hammered into her the importance of being independent. So when Kyra and Maria went off to Europe for the summer, Kyra had no problem navigating her way through the country. Very proud of her African-American & Italian heritage and her culture, Kyra’s family was very pleased when she told them that she was going to become a chef. So when Kyra and Maria returned to the states she set about to become the most sought after chef in the country. To the delight of her family and in the honor of her parents, she’d succeeded. Kyra’s mother was African-American, a dark skinned, sized 10 woman with an amazing singing voice that she’d passed onto her daughter. Kyra’s father was an Italian man, the typical Italian man, he was very smooth and cool and very into his family. Kyra was his pride and joy and he’d spoiled her rotten while he was still alive. He’d taught his daughter Italian and also how to cook. Kyra’s skin color was a beautiful dark brown milk chocolate color, her mother’s African-American pigmentation coming through more dominantly, although Kyra’s hair and cheekbones attested to her father’s Italian influence. The Gargulas had taught her daughter that color didn’t matter and that if she found true love she shouldn’t but a color requirement on it. Kyra had taken that piece of advice to heart.
The two women were inseparable and shared everything with each other. Kyra was there for Maria when Maria got married and then a year later when she had her first child, Kyra’s godson Ricky. Likewise Maria was there for Kyra when she’d married a drill sergeant in the Army, SFC Riley, and then when her husband died tragically when a new soldier, a very eager one, accidentally shot her husband when practicing cadences with his buddies during Basic Training. Maria held Kyra’s hand and stayed with her for two months as she’d grieved and then as she’d found out that her husband had left her a very special surprise….
Kyra turned with wide eyes to Maria. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered. Maria’s eyes had widened also.
“What?” she’d croaked out. “I’m pregnant Mare,” Kyra repeated flopping onto the side of the bathtub.
“What? How?”
“The usual way, Mare,” Kyra chuckled, “Landon and I made love everyday, even the day he was killed.”
Maria turned from the sink where she’d been examining the tests and knelt before Kyra.
“You know it figures that Landon would find some kind of way to leave his mark behind,” Kyra laughed.
The two women had laughed and like that the cloud of grief that had been hanging over Kyra lifted. She still mourned her husband’s death but she knew that he’d want her to move on with her life and it seemed as if fate had chosen her OB to help her do just that.
“Cara mia, you can’t just go around kissing men though,” Maria said furiously.
“I don’t mi amiga, it was only this once. Mi dispiace,” she apologized.
“You have to stop switching languages in the middle of sentences chica,” Maria laughed.
The two women laughed heartily and spoke of pregnancy matters before moving on to their plans for that summer.
“Make sure you check with your doctor that it’s okay. I mean you’ll be six months when we go, but with it being twins... who knows if the rules are different,” Maria advised.
“I will. I have another appointment with him in a few weeks, I’ll ask him then…” Kyra stated. Then she teased, “Or I could just show up to his office and ask him.”
“Kyra!” Maria exclaimed.
“Okay, okay. I’ll wait,” Kyra acquiesced.
The two talked for thirty more minutes before Ricky cried for attention from his mother. They said goodbye with plans to talk the next day before they hung up. Kyra sighed as she absently rubbed her distended stomach. Standing up she walked back into her gourmet kitchen, which looked as if it had come directly from an Italian kitchen, with garlic hanging over the stove and sterling silver pots hanging above the island. The color scheme of the room boasted of an Italian upbringing, with the red cabinets, white countertops, and green appliances. Placing her now empty bowl into the almost full dishwasher, Kyra’s mind drifted to her husband. The choking tears that usually came with his memory didn’t come this time, she saw his smiling face and the conversation that they’d had one week prior to the accident.
Landon flopped onto his back after exploding his seed deep inside of his wife’s womb. Smiling as he heard her gasping for breath, he rolled over onto his side and pulled her to him.
“I want you to always be happy,” he’d begun.
Kyra had begun to giggle because she’d thought he meant sexually.
“Well honey if you keep doing the same moves that you did tonight, you might just get your wish,” she’d said as she ran her hand over his chiseled, hairless, olive colored skin. Landon was a full-blooded Greek man with black hair and blue eyes whose body looked as if he lived in the gym. The two had run into each other at the supermarket that was located just off base. They were instantly attracted to each other and shocking family and friends alike were married within six months of meeting each other when they eloped in Las Vegas. They’d gone back and had a wedding six months after that, in an effort to appease bruised feelings, but they always celebrated the first wedding as their anniversary date.
Landon laughed and tickled Kyra lightly, he stopped when he saw that she was losing her focus and starting to yawn.
“No, honey, I mean that I want you to always be happy in life. I mean sex is a part of it…with you it’s a BIG part of it,” he chuckled when she playfully smacked his shoulder, “but I mean, if anything should happen to me, if I should die or something, you have to promise me that you will do your best to be happy and as quickly as possible.”
Kyra had looked at him confused as to why he would be talking like that, but when he persisted she agreed and in an effort to drive the haunting look from his eyes, she’d made love to him, slowly and thoroughly. She’d forgotten about that conversation right after but soon after the funeral it had come back to her with sudden clarity and hadn’t stopped running through her mind.
Kyra closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. It was an old meditation trick that her mother had taught her in order to keep her emotions at bay. Whenever she thought about Landon she instantly thought about her horrific experience when she was four. She hated thinking about that, it always stirred up what she saw as being unnecessary emotions. Exhaling slowly and raising her arms slowly in the air, Kyra was shocked out of her meditative pose by the sound of her doorbell ringing. Who can that be? She wondered as she walked through the hallways of her home to the front door. Smoothing her hands over her ponytail, Kyra turned on the porch lights and looked through the peephole to see who her late night visitor was. She gasped as she saw that Dr. Matt was standing outside of the door holding what looked to be her attaché case. Smiling at his generosity, she opened the door and leaned against the doorjamb.
“Well…Dr. Matt, it’s so nice to see you again,” she smiled.
“Um, yes, it’s nice to see you again also,” Matt stuttered.
Aww, that’s so cute, he’s all nervous to talk to me. What can I do to ease his worry? Kyra asked herself before having a brilliant and hilarious idea.
“Would you like to come in Dr. Matt?” she questioned.
“Well…I don’t know…I mean, it’s late and-” Matt began.
“Don’t worry I won’t attack you and kiss you like I did earlier, I promise…not unless you ask me to,” she laughed.
Matt blinked before he realized that she was trying to put him at ease. Laughing good-naturedly at their earlier meeting, Matt nodded his head and followed her into the door. Walking behind her to the living room, Matt tried to pay more attention to her home décor than to her beautiful derriere swaying before him. She lived in a very nice home. It was a two story home, with each room having a different color and theme. The hallways were a golden color and were filled with figurines of Greek mythology and paintings of Greek gods and demi-gods. As they passed the dining room and the kitchen on the right, Matt quickly glanced in and saw that the dining room was very classically elegant with cabernet carpet and maroon paneled walls and a huge table that looked as if it could seat a third world country. The kitchen was fit for a gourmet chef and looked as if it came directly from an Italian restaurant. On his left they passed what looked to be the formal living room which was completely white. Raising his eyebrows, Matt promised himself to ask her about that room. The next room on his left seemed to be a ballet studio, with ballet bars, mirrors on both walls and a desk with a boom box sitting on top of it. Following her around a corner on the left, Matt stopped when he saw the informal living room. It was every man’s dream room. With a bar on the left, a refrigerator on the right, what looked to be dark green felt carpet with lines as if the carpet were a football field, Matt could see why footballs were kept in a case on the side beside the refrigerator. His eyes took in the pictures on the walls. They contained Kyra and another man at different sporting events. He stopped perusing the walls completely when his eyes came upon one picture, his breath catching in his lungs he walked closer to the picture.
Catching where he was headed Kyra tried not to laugh.
“Y-y-you met the Boston Red Sox?” he whispered in awe.
Kyra laughed as she took his hand and brought him over to the large photograph on the wall next to her 64 inch television screen. While the first picture showed her, David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez, Pedro Martinez, and Johnny Damon this photograph showed her standing in the middle of the Boston Red Sox at two of the greatest times in their recent history, when they won the World Series in ‘04 and then again in ‘07. Matt turned to stare at her with a look of admiration in his eyes.
“How?” he questioned.
“My mother knew “Papi” from when he was a kid. His family kept in touch with me after my parents died. So when he started playing for Boston I got season passes. I’ve always been a huge BoRSo fan and Papi introduced me to Johnny, Manny, and Pedro,” Kyra stated rolling her r’s as she said Pedro.
“BoRSo?” Matt asked.
“It’s what Maria, my best friend, and I call the Boston Red Sox. Anyway, Papi introduced me to the fellas, I started cooking for them whenever they were in the same city as me, they came to my wedding,” Kyra stated and then pausing she whispered, “they even came to my husband’s funeral.” Then shaking herself out of her reverie she finished with a smile, “I make them promise to not discuss their teams or baseball when they’re all around me, to me they’ll always be BoRSo players. These pictures on these walls remind me of that.”
“I’ve never met a woman who liked sports, much less liked the Red Sox and knew the players. I mean, they’re my favorite team of all time. It’s one of the reasons I asked to be transferred out here, I’ve always loved Boston,” Matt turned to Kyra and got down on one knee while holding her hand, “Will you marry me?” he teased.
Kyra laughed heartily and asked if he wanted a drink to which he accepted, forgetting that he’d come over with the express purpose of delivering her attaché case and leaving, not wanting to be alone with her for fear of his hormones spinning out of control. Following Kyra through the house Matt was consistently amazed at how peaceful her home felt, and how much it felt lived in already. He tried not to smile like a big kid when Kyra poured him a beer in a Boston Red Sox cup, but failed miserably.
“Why do you have beer in your home? You’re pregnant,” he questioned after taking a few big gulps.
Kyra laughed again before answering and he felt his groin stirring to life at the sound. What was it about this woman? He asked himself before focusing back on her.
“I checked online Dr. Matt, they said I could have one beer if I’m craving it, and I’ve been craving beer since I’ve gotten pregnant. Plus, I have family and friends who come by a lot and they all like to drink, so I always make sure that I have some beer in the fridge for them,” she explained before pouring herself a glass of ginger ale.
“Nauseous?” he asked, making a mental note of the symptom.
“Just a little, it comes and it goes,” she replied before taking a sip.
“Well, that’s perfectly common,” he stated although his eyes were cautiously aware of everything.
“I know that, Dr. Matt, my best friend, Maria, explained just about everything when I found out I was pregnant.”
“Oh, really?” Matt asked amused. “So, you really don’t have a need for a doctor like me then huh?” He chuckled softly when Kyra looked as if she were contemplating the idea.
“You know something? You’re right! I don’t need a doctor…” smiling mischievously at him she teased, “but you’re just too cute to fire, so I guess I’ll let you stay on as my doctor.”
The two shared a laugh and then drank their beverages in a friendly silence. When his pager went off, Matt was surprised, for a second he’d almost forgotten where he was, who he was, and his relationship…his professional relationship with Kyra. Looking at the number he sighed, someone was going into labor which meant that he had to go.
“I’m sorry-“ he began.
“Don’t be,” Kyra interrupted, “you’re a doctor, you’re a ‘baby’ doctor, of course you’re going to get paged.” She stood up with him, taking his glass and placing it beside hers on the counter. She turned to walk him to the door and he tried his hardest not to stare at her posterior as she walked but found himself failing at that as well.
“Dr. Matt? Are you checking out my butt?” Kyra’s voice laughed at him from in front of him.
“I’m trying not to,” he answered truthfully and was rewarded with a healthy laugh from her.
“Don’t feel bad, she has a tendency to hypnotize men. That’s how I got my husband Landon,” she said.
The room suddenly got very quiet, this time not a pleasant quiet like from before, but a silence that was thick with emotion and pain.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Matt whispered when they got to the front door and she opened it. “I wish there was more comfort that I could give you, but I’m afraid that I can’t.”
Kyra placed her hand on his arm before she spoke, “It’s okay, your desire to comfort is more than enough. Thank you.”
He nodded his head and turned to walk back out of the door. Stopping suddenly, he turned back to her, “What’s up with the all white living room?” he questioned.
Kyra’s eyes blinked in confusion and then crinkled at the sides as if remembering a very pleasant scenario. “I’ll tell you all about it when you come over for dinner this weekend,” she hinted.
“You want me to come over for dinner this weekend?” Matt asked in confusion.
“Aw! Thanks for asking me Dr. Matt! I’d love for you to come over for dinner this weekend. Let’s make it Saturday at 7pm okay? Okay. G’night!” Kyra smiled before leaning up to kiss the very confused doctor on his lips and pushing him out the door. Closing the door on his still shocked face, Kyra started laughing when she heard his soft but still dazed reply.
“G’night.”