Suzanne V. Reese

author of paranormal, fantasy, science fiction stories.

Life

Living the Long-Haul Life

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All in a day’s circus

I had Covid in October of 2020. I’m celebrating my 1-year anniversary this month.

I never got over covid. I wasn’t ever hospitalized, though I was pretty out of it from the beginning. Mostly dizzy. Very, very dizzy. That’s what I remember most. And then I just never got better. Other things just kept coming. One after the other.

Long-haul (or post) covid comes with a number of possible side-effects. I have at least two dozen, however they all fall under one of three categories.

First, blood clots (which is probably the cause of the next two – my doctors tell me this is a vascular disorder.) Blood thinners keep those under control for me, so they’re not a current issue.

Second, neural (brain) swelling – which causes symptoms similar to a stroke victim and took away my ability to keep writing my novels (and why I’ll make a blanket apology about the writing here. It’s actually an exercise assigned to me by one of my therapists. So thanks for your patience.)

And finally – the circus of all problems – dysautonomia (or autonomic disorder.) If you don’t know what that is: when you make a fist you are making a voluntary movement. When you shiver from the cold, that is an involuntary (or autonomic) movement. When you blink – voluntary. When your eyes water, involuntary. When you have autonomic dysfunction, the sky’s the limit with what can go wrong – because a circus master is now in control of all the things you can’t control.

Following are a few stories that sum up my current world.

SIT DOWN PLEASE

I’ve noticed I start to feel anxiety when I see people standing. I start looking for a place for them to sit, and if there isn’t something nearby, the anxiety notches up a bit and I wonder how far away they are from a seat, until I remember that I’m the one with the problem.  Most people can stand, and walk, for long periods of time. After a year of lacking that ability, it’s a bizarre concept.

It’s not that I can’t stand. Or walk. I just can’t do it for very long. Three minutes is safe. Five is usually okay. Six is risking it. Anything past that will fail without question.

By fail I mean I will go into…(I’m pausing here because…words…) (two minutes have passed and the word hasn’t come. Good thing I’m not standing, lol. I’m off to look it up.) A FLARE. (That’s the word. Dang it. A simple one.) Anyway, I’ll flare if I am in an upright position for longer than six minutes. Sometimes just four. Or sometimes if I do something wild like try to make my bed (it usually just takes one good tug on the sheets) or bend over to pick up something off the ground.

Here’s what a flare is like: My pulse, while standing, is almost always over 100. But it’ll go up anywhere from 130 to 185. My ear (just the left) has a constant buzz, pulsing to the beat of my heart, at the volume of maybe 3 to 5 (out of 10) all of the time, but it will notch up to anywhere from a 7 to a 10. My head will pulse to the same beat, with a throbbing pain. My heart will palpitate, also to that same beat, so strong that I’m sure anyone can see my shirt moving up and down. There will often be chest pain. And cramping around my ribs. Oh, and I can’t forget the dizzy. Can’t ever forget the dizzy. The stomach will start to rumble in an unsettled way and I’ll usually either get gassy or nauseous or both.

What’s funny is that usually none of that starts until I sit down. And the longer I wait to sit down after the first clue starts (usually it’s the dizzy) the worse it will be. And then it was take at least a day to recover, sometimes more. Which is why I always need to plan my routes when I walk somewhere, so I can go from chair to chair. And it can’t ever be very far.

Yesterday, my dear hubs suggested we go on a drive to see the fall leaves before they disappear. I hadn’t had any doctor’s appointments that week, which meant I literally hadn’t left the house the entire week except for the obligatory step outside to get some sunshine and keep myself grounded. I switch between the front and back porch. Both have chairs just outside the door. But I never last more than a few minutes because it’s either too cold or too hot or too windy and I’ve turned into the wimpiest version of Goldilocks and can’t tolerate anything that’s not just right.

So, after a week of complete indoor hermit living, I eagerly took him up on his offer. My head hurt just a little, which was not unusual, but I decided that I wouldn’t complain while on the drive. I hardly ever left the house and I would enjoy myself if it killed me. Besides, we were just riding in the car. We weren’t even getting out, let alone walking or standing.

I did fine, until we started curves in the canyon. My stomach rumbled and I felt a bit of nausea. The slight pain in head turned into a pulsing throb, which triggered the pulsing in my ear, turning it to a ten. I gripped the door handle with one hand and center console with another, focused on keeping the bile in my throat from coming any further.

Rob asked if I was okay, but I couldn’t think of a thing to say that wasn’t a complaint. Then I gasped for air. I knew that sensation. I’ve spent ten months on 24/7 supplemental oxygen. I don’t use it during the day any more, but we were gaining altitude. Of course.

Fortunately, Rob’s a smart guy and he turned the car around at the next turnabout.

And now I know that I don’t even have to be standing to be triggered into a flare.

Happy Day.

GHOSTS IN MY NOSE

It started after I’d had covid for several weeks. The sheets smelled like we hadn’t washed them in months. I was pretty sure that was wrong, but I was also kind of out of it, so maybe they hadn’t? I jumped up and pulled them off the bed. Socks. They smelled like old gym socks. It was awful. And not just the sheets. The blankets too. And the mattress pad. I didn’t have the energy to get that off. I’d have to ask my husband to help me with it later.

How on earth did we let the bed get in this condition? I pushed the offensive fabric in the washer (a major undertaking for me) then went to the couch to have a lie down. But it smelled the same. And not just the couch – the pillows and blanket throw. My favorite minky-soft throw. What on earth? Had my husband stopped washing his feet and then wiped them over every cloth surface in the house? (I probably should clarify that that is not a thing my husband is likely to do. He’s actually terribly civilized.)

I moved to the leather recliner, which gratefully smelled fine, and rested a bit before going in search of some Fabreze for the couch.

This went on for days, with the offensive odor coming and going and me spraying the Fabreze and loading the washer pretty much nonstop. I started to get annoyed with my husband. My feet smelled fine and there’s only the two of us living here. I couldn’t think of any other reason that every cloth surface in the house smelled like old gym socks.

Until I heard mention of phantom smells. I knew that people lost their smell with covid. But I didn’t know they had wrong smells. Ones that didn’t exist. And for some reason they’re almost always nasty smells – skunks, cigarette smoke, rancid food.

It apparently has something to do with cavemen and fight or flight responses. I can’t really explain it. I just know the Long Haul group I’m in, if you bring up phantom smells you get story after story.

The only good thing I have to say about phantom smells is that they are not constant. For some reason my imaginary old gym sock smell was only on fabric, and not all fabric (my clothes always smelled fine). Skunk and cigarette smoke drifts in from closed windows for just a few minutes here and there throughout the day. And after a couple of weeks, they disappeared complete.

Until this month. This time it was rotten food. The smell that floats out of a neglected trash can.

“Did you just throw something away?” I say to my husband, who’s sitting next to me and obviously didn’t just open the kitchen trash can.

“Nope.”

“Is the garage door open?”

“Nope.”

I sniff again. Definitely putrid. My stomach sinks. “Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

I plug my nose from the imaginary smell. That doesn’t help. I blink back tears.

I can’t tell you how awful this is. Not that the smell is all that bad. I mean, it’s bad. It’s really bad, as smells go. But Covid has brought way worse things than smells that aren’t real.

What’s so awful is that it’s back. One of dozens of symptoms that went away never really did go away.

This thing, whatever it is, that resides inside me and is actively destroying my body, is not going away.

HUGS AND KISSES

I was referred to a neuro-physiatrist the other day. (I’ll bet you’ve never heard of one. I know I hadn’t). She was awesome because she has seen a ton of long haulers and she got me. Plus she knows even more than I do about long haulers (To be honest, I’m usually the one teaching my doctors.) One of her questions was if I thought my memory issues were short or long term.

That was easy. Both. For sure, both. I told her two stories.

First, my daughter, a young adult who lives on her own, comes home every Thursday evening to have dinner with her folks watch the tv show Chuck with us. If you haven’t seen it, you really must look it up. I started watching waay back in the day, when it was new (2007). I’m not much of a tv watcher. I usually read when I have free time, or watch whatever my husband is watching when he’s around. But I do like to have a series to watch on my own time, when I have to do something where I can’t read, like fold laundry. Back in 2007, that show was Chuck. Natalie was around during an episode and got hooked.

When it came time to pick a series to watch as a group, Chuck went to top of the list since Dad hadn’t seen it. But it has not gone as expected.

Watching Chuck this time around has been like some really good friends putting on a production you’ve never seen before. You’re totally invested, because they’re you’re friends, and you are cheering them on, and always happy to see them when they appear, but you have no idea what’s going to happen next. Because you’ve never seen it before.

When Natalie was telling our son about the show, she explained that Dad had never seen it. “And Mom has seen it. I know she has because I watched it with her. But it’s like the first time. She’s surprised by everything.”

But, I pointed out, that’s not all bad. I’ve never been a fan of watching shows twice.

Then there’s story number two. This one’s weird. And embarrassed hubby when I told the doctor. But it’s real. And weird. I said that, right? It’s about our bedtime kiss. You know, the one couples do before going to sleep.

“Good night sweetie. Love you.”

“Good night. Love you too.”

Kiss. Kiss.

Except more often than not, I don’t remember that. At first hubby didn’t say anything, he just thought I was being weird when I’d wash, rinse, repeat. But then one night I complained that he hadn’t kissed me goodnight. I thought he was teasing when he laughed and said he had. But he kissed me again to appease me and I seriously thought it was the first time.

The second time I didn’t think it was funny when he teased me again. He assured me he wasn’t teasing. But he kissed me again anyway.

The third time I believed him and I didn’t make him kiss me again. But then I laid in bed thinking through my bedtime routine. I’d put on my pajamas, brushed my teeth, washed my face, etc. etc. I could remember every part of it. Except the kiss. It just wasn’t in my brain. I tried to roll over and go to sleep but it felt wrong. Like we were fighting or something. So I made him kiss me again.

Now I make him give me a big passionate kiss that I can’t forget. Has only happened once since. (I blame him. Obviously he didn’t follow instructions.)

So that one’s not so bad either, I suppose.

Excuse me, there’s an alien in my academy

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Ever since the story of a boy named Harry who attended magical school called Hogwarts took the world by storm, readers have been captivated by paranormal coming of age stories sent on school campuses. Witches, wizards, vampires and more have found life in hundreds of books with an academy theme.
Academy books reached their peak a year or so ago, but still have a strong following, especially those take a unique approach.

As an author, I’ve struggled to find a home for my young adult series ExtraNormal. It crosses multiple genres—science fiction, paranormal, romance and suspense. While choosing a cover for the series—as I was writing the second book in the series—I had an ah ha moment that the one place I hadn’t classified it was academy.

And to be fair, it’s not a traditional academy. Yes, it’s paranormal. But there’s also the little detail of aliens. It’s unique enough, though, to fill the unique approach requirement of current academy books.

I’ll admit I feel a little like a fraud, putting the series into the classification after book one came out. I didn’t do it lightly. As I struggled with the decision, a wise friend said to me, “You’ll be called out with unhappy readers no matter what you do. What’s important is that you get it in front of the people who will appreciate it, and with your book that’s academy readers.”

So I went for it. And so far, feedback has been incredible. What about you? Are you an academy fan? Do you like yours traditional, or with a bit of a twist?

The first book in the series is available here.

Musings on a ten-year cancerversary

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I recently had a big celebration, (ten-years cancer-free, baby!) and wrote a post that was semi-popular giving the scope on what it really means to be cancer-free (it’s not all gumdrops and roses). I thought I’d share here, in case you’re interested.

That time ten years ago…(and yes, #cancersucks)

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Ten years ago, I thought I had it going on—in just a short amount of time I became a college graduate, a grandmother, and a published author. Then at the end of the year I also became a cancer patient. Late-stage. Bad odds. It was ugly and I won’t get into the details. But during the worst of the treatment, I escaped by writing a book I’d been daydreaming about. It wasn’t in my genre (women’s inspirational fiction) but it was fun.  

After a year or so, when I thought I was through the worst of it, I had a hankering to publish that book. To be honest, it never would have happened without the support of some wonderful people who rallied to help me get it out. And it was amazing. The book shot to the top of the charts and sold, literally, thousands of copies. 

That should have spurred me on. But instead, I felt like a marathoner who just needed to collapse and rest. At first, I gave it a month. Then two. Eventually, I came to a very difficult decision. Writing is a pretty lethargic occupation, and if I was going to keep this cancer away, I needed to move. So, I put it behind me and moved on to self-care.  I can’t say I regret that decision. I am still here after all.  But the next two books in the series kept haunting me. 

extranormal ebook

Eventually, as I approached my ten-year, TEN YEAR, cancerversary, I realized it was time to get back to ExtraNormal and the rest of the series. It seemed fitting to celebrate by coming full circle.  

Now, one problem I have is that I’ve never been one to make a big deal about my cancer. Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than grateful to be alive. But a soldier doesn’t celebrate battle when they’ve lost multiple comrades. And I’ve lost more than I can count on two hands. Maybe even four.  Or six come to think of it. Which leads to my other problem – I’m not a fan of pink ribbons, which unfortunately have turned into a giant marketing machine as opposed to a way to drive more research, which is what we desperately need. We don’t need more awareness. We need solutions that will save lives. 

Which is why I’ve decided to donate all author proceeds during launch (pre-orders and the week of launch) to cancer research. Not the fluffy pink stuff, but to an actual center that does actual research, where 100% of the proceeds go where they can do the most good.  If you’d like to pre-order the ebook, you can do that any time. A word though, if you’re thinking you’d like a print copy, wait until the launch party coming soon, because the ebook will be free when you buy a print book, and your contribution will be even larger. If you’re not on my VIP list, make sure you jump on so you’ll be notified of the party (and giveaway) details. 

Why I chose to relaunch ExtraNormal

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As I contemplated the reasons for relaunching a couple of my novels, I came across an article by Jane Freidman listing 6 reasons an author may consider relaunching one of their books. I’m happy to report that I qualify in all six categories.

Following are the reasons she gave, along with a bit of commentary from me. 

  1. Revise and Re-release

Jane mentioned an author who had learned so much, he was sure his book would have done better the second time around. She suggested making those changes he wished he’d done before. I can’t say either of my books needed many changes, but in terms of how they were marketed, there definitely was huge room for improvement.

  1. You have your rights back.

Check. Sometimes a publisher believes that a book has lived its usefulness, because selling more books would require a major effort, and they’ve got a whole list of new books that need their efforts. The author, on the other hand, may have the ability to give the book the fresh attention it needs. It IS their baby after all.

  1. Your Book Needs a New Cover

Oh, Holy Moly Yes. So much so that I won’t even publish the old covers. I will say that both were beautiful, but not in keeping with the tone of the book. That falls into the “live and learn” category. And, by the way, enough cannot be said about the importance of a cover to a book.

  1. Relaunch a Brand

Absolutely. That’s what this relaunch is all about. When I published ExtraNormal, it was supposed to be the first in a series of three. Those other two are still outlined in my head, but my health caught up with me and I wasn’t able to continue. I continue to receive requests (sometimes demands) for those next books, and it’s been a constant nag at the back of my mind.

“This relaunch allows me to put out books 2 and 3, with book one given a fresh start. It also allows me to put both my books of different genres into the same brand. Win, win, win. ”

  1. Poor or No Promotion the First Time

Oh yes, check. Here’s how it went down. My first published novel. Oh, happy day – a published novel! Was released just a few months before being diagnosed with breast cancer. So not only was I an unknown newbie with flailing marketing skills, but I was in crisis. Book two, ExtraNormal, was the result of pure inspiration during my cancer treatment. Basically, it was in a new genre, (a fun genre) and it kept my mind occupied during treatment. Once I got my strength back, a wonderful community rallied to help me get it edited and typeset and ready to self-publish. And it did remarkably well (became an Amazon best-seller). But soon after the release I felt like a marathoner who had reached the end of the race. To put it bluntly, I knew that if I kept writing that cancer would come back. And so it all came to a screeching halt.

That is until I came up with the idea of re-branding and re-launching and even adding in the coaching I’d transitioned to. And I couldn’t be more thrilled. What about you? Have you re-branded? Re-launched? Or do you know of a book that has?

Share your thoughts in the comments.

 

Real Life Super Powers?

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If you’ve followed me at all, you may have heard my story about writing a fictional book, then finding out people around me had the same crazy powers as the characters in my book. Since I keep getting asked, I thought I’d share how it all went down.

First, let me explain that I’m about as normal and scientific thinking as a person can get. Or at least I used to be, until all this happened. Although I guess I should also clarify that even though I like things to be explained by science, I also have a huge imagination (hence the whole fiction-writer thing). Maybe the combination of being both practical in real life but fanciful in my imagination gave me the ability to put all the pieces in place?

How about I tell the story and you can decide?

First the book. The main character, Mira, is a girl who visits earth from another planet. Very much humanoid, except that she is telepathic and empathic. (Those were not the words I used to describe her though, since I didn’t even know the meaning of that second word). Jesse is from earth, but not like the other boys. In addition to being a loner, he’s musically gifted. He hears music in his head. Sometimes it torments him. But he’s able to create hauntingly brilliant music.

The snippets from this scene describes Jesse: (He’s setting up the sound system at a dance, and brought Mira to see.)

____________

“That’s your stuff?”

“Yeah, it’s usually in my room. Along with my sound mixer, keyboard, drums, guitars…” He smiled wistfully as dancing lights streamed across his face. “There’s hardly any room for my bed. I wanted to show you yesterday. But we never made it that far.”

“I had no idea.”

He shrugged, embarrassed, then took a wide step to the side, dipping me slightly. “It’s just what I do.”

“But if you’ve been in here today, why didn’t Camille and Lacey see you?”

He shrugged. “I tend to be invisible. Even to them.”

My heart ached for his loneliness. “This song,” I said, “it’s yours, isn’t it?”

“I worked on it this summer, while trying to stop the noise. I didn’t really understand it, until I saw you that first day.” He touched my chin with his finger, drawing my face up to his. “I knew immediately it was for you.”

[…] (Skipping some spoiler stuff here)

The room circled around us, lights falling across our intertwined bodies. The rich musical notes surrounded us in full crescendo. The world and all the forces pulling against us fell away in that bright, singular moment.

I imagined him in his bedroom, tormented and desperate, composing and playing each of those harmonic parts separately then blending them together. Even on my world he would be considered brilliant.

____________

So that’s Jesse. He’s kind of awesome.

But here’s where it gets weird. I wrote all that when my son was 13 and a pretty normal kid. A year later though, he started to struggle. Grades & friends both dropped out. Then one day he asked me if he could learn to play the piano. He sat down to the piano for the first time, and I spent about ten minutes showing him around. Then I left for about four hours. When I got home, he was playing better than I could even dream of playing with my decade of lessons.

It wasn’t long before his room looked just like Jesse’s – filled with all kinds of musical equipment. He’d disappear into his room and churn out the most haunting lyrics. But he never wanted anyone to hear. And the rest of his world didn’t improve. So, I found a lady who is kind of a counselor for musicians and asked her to help me figure out my son.

After her first visit with him, she told me that he’s empathic. Now you might be thinking, “Of course he is.” Or you might be like me and have no idea what that means. When she explained that empaths feel other people’s emotions like their own, my response was. “That’s not real stuff. That’s fiction. I should know.”

And there was more. Not only does he sense emotions, but he HEARS other people’s energy like a song. The things he plays are just the sounds he hears.

Holy crap. Where have I heard that before?

At first I just laughed and decided we’d wasted a few coins on psycho lady.

But no. It was true. Once we knew what to look for, we could see it as plain as day.

And while I love that he can create hauntingly beautiful music with almost no effort, it was tormenting him, just like it did Jesse.

So I went in search of solutions.

What I learned is that he is not unique. There are people all over the world who seem to know things they never learned. And who have unbelievable skills.

In fact – you’ve probably figured this out, but it was years before I did a head thump and went, “How did I know something that didn’t yet know?” (Yes, even I have some super powers).

Turns out it happens all the time. People who sense things before they happen. Or are hyper aware of their surroundings and other people’s emotions. And the numbers are increasing.

The cause? There are a ton of theories. I have mine. I’ll save those for my next post.

For now though, that’s my story.

Super powers are real guys. There, I said it. And so is kryptonite. Because when things are too powerful, or confusing, you can literally shut down.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering. My son is doing much better. He works at a music studio and volunteers his time working with young people. And when I’m really lucky he’ll play me a song.