Welcome back Rhonda! Yes, let’s get to writing.
Thank you Deborah 
I felt a bit awkward to talk medical here, but definitely wanted to let everyone know “where’s Waldo, err…um…DeAnna”. Y’all are so amazing it’s good to be getting back to something like normal and back to writing with the group.
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Well, it’s a significant element of life for you right now. If you wanna talk about it, you go right ahead. 
On the prompt: I don’t know if this counts, but I recently got to write my MC with a sprained ankle in my YA fantasy project:
“Carrot brains!” Henley called after the horse, even though he was halfway home by now. Last time she’d ridden him, he’d spooked at a large pink and orange flower and almost threw her. Today, he’d made up for his failure.
When the pointe receded behind the rise, Henley brushed sand from her dress, hands, arms, and face. Hot grains filled her shoes but balancing on one foot long enough to empty them would mean more ankle pain and sitting to do it was just as bad an option.
Resigned to the extra shoe padding, she trudged toward the farm.
Hopefully Nen was home by now.
Each step twinged as she picked through patches of grass and shallow roots from long-cleared trees. By the time the smell of salt left the air, her ankle throbbed. She found a spindly tree and took the weight off her bad ankle.
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I’ve been away too, but in my case it was for work (was ‘slightly’ drowning in it), but oh my … what a post to return to @DeAnna. I am so sorry to hear about your woes, and extremely happy that you are still here with us and able to relate your tale. You definitely have the right to talk to us about it - it’s been your life recently and that’s what we do here: share!
I cannot fathom what it would be like not to get a quick and correct diagnosis, so writing on that prompt might be difficult. However, I do have a tragic tale I’m telling at present (although weirdly it’s a happy ending, despite being also a tragedy), and the question at the end is whether my protagonist dies of her condition or voluntary euthanasia (suicide). The condition itself is not important to the story, and I had thought to make it an incurable ailment (was still considering options), but perhaps I should consider a mis-diagnosis - based on your prompt? Will need to contemplate further …
But for now, I’m just happy that you are with us and look forward to your re-newed content for this forum. And, incidentally, enjoy the summit talks. I know I did.
Hi DeAnna. I’m new to the group. I watched the video and looked at the resources you shared about PheoPara Disease. Thank you! I can’t imagine what you are experiencing. My thoughts are with you! I think your writing prompt is great to help us get closer (more intimate) with our characters who are facing either medical or psychological challenges. Regarding the Summit, I’m listening to the replays. So far, they are great! I’m learning so much. It’s because of the Summit that I registered for Daniel David Wallace’s, Read With Me (Not the exact title). So far I’m enjoying this experience as well! Take care.
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I don’t usually do medical stuff either, far too much of it in the family right now.
Might try the prompt when I get tired off banging head against wall of editing.
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I’m sorry your health has been tangled up in chaos and uncertainty. Getting a proper diagnosis is key. Here’s hoping and praying that your condition continues to improve! It’s good to have you back at the helm. I’ve missed your posts and prompts.
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Thank you so much Kelly. It was a really weird stretch there not be able to predict what my situation would be from hour to hour each day and not even knowing what or why so I could inform folks of “where did she go?” , “when will she be back?”
It’s good to be able to say with some certainty what’s going on and assure everyone that I cherish our group and sincerely did not just drop the ball and wander off.
Y’all are the best! I’m so happy to get back to the business of writing with you.
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I truly hope you do Robin, I can see you doing something really special with it. Whether it play off of something historical or your special brand of humorous touches.
I know the way to harsh reality of health issues hit so many of us close to home and writing on the subject can be raw and painful if the prompt follows the hard, cold, true to life facts, but I have seen the talent in this room.
I believe anyone of you could knock this prompt out of the park with some trouble shooting on the boundaries of our imaginations.
What say you?
I’m thinking mine will consists of blatten symptoms like unnatural spots and Dr’s being unable to see or acknowledge their existence as a form of not wishing to alert the public. Some serious conspiracy stuff.
I don’t know how it will end, what it will turn out to be, but I intend some very colorful character in my 15 minutes of scribbling out the prompt.
Just because as writer we can make the world’s we build whatever we want.
I hope you decide to tackle it. Only when you’re ready zero pressure. Just know I look forward to it if ever you choose to do so, my friend in paper and ink.
Welcome Mary!
It’s so wonderful to have you join us.
Thank you for your kind words.
I can hardly wait to catch up on the summit myself. Bless those replays!
Daniel’s classes our amazing. His insight to writer’s and how to get them writing is truly his super power.
I hope you take every course he has to offer. In my humble opinon it’s the best investment in your writing ever.
Oh Kathy, this is great stuff! What if…would it be interesting if your character chose Euthanasia and in autopsy found it was a misdiagnosis! Whaaat!?! Can you imagine that jolt for your character, who she’s left behind (or medical blunder/cover up/coroner shrug and sweep under the rug…???) and the reader’s catharsis to it?
Just a thought, because I have often wondered about folks choosing to die with dignity and in their own way through Euthanasia…what if their charts got mixed up…?
…but how? Maybe a tech did improper test? Maybe a simple mix up, that just keeps barely being rectified to no avail. Say in the spirit of a shakespearean tragedy. When several times the mistake couldnhave been avoided or found out and yet narrorly missed time and again for a rollercoaster effect of hope, disappointment, and frustration…?
Maybe by a loved one trying to prevent their loved one from hearing bad news that their time is short. (Like in the new Yellowstone inspired series 1883. Heart wrenching, brilliant in that vein of story telling. Or The substitute wife. I watched several years ago (based on a booked.) I adored the TV adaptation through smiles and tears. I’ve never forgotten the tale)
Whatever you decide to do…I know it will be uniquely your brand of writing magic. I adore your writing gift of unassuming tales punctuated by surprise twist the reader never saw coming.
I hope you share some with the group and I hope what ever you decide it’s rips my heart out in the telling of it.
How could it not? Brillant choice of such an intriguing and raw subject matter.
Thank you for this I was unsure what to say or if to say, but I sure wanted folks to know where I ran off too.
Thank you for helping set my mind at ease that it was not an over share.
All writing here counts. Especially so when shared.
Pure poetry here Deborah, I was transported. Thank you for sharing this!
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@DeAnna, your description intrigues me. I had similar ‘racing’ symptoms when I thought I was having a heart attack. It makes me wonder if that response is typical when facing that unknown, definately real, and totally wrong physical condition. You have my prayers, and relief that someone has properly identified what you are facing. Latin-ish problems are the worst!
I will be sketching out a scene that’s been banging around in my head for near to a year now. Your post put my character’s reaction into focus. Thanks for that.
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Ellen watched in dread as her skin motled then turned a dark brown. She gasped and began to feel strange eyes measuring her. Judging her when the chair toppled because she stood too fast. Condemning her as she butt bounced her way through the cafe. She never had trouble slipping through seated patrons before. Now fear outlined those unblinking eyes. Fear siezed her own eyes with the changing of her skin color. The last two tables blocking the door, blocking her escape, left even less room to squeeze through. One of the petite, perfect women sprawled across the floor as Ellen made her last dash. She had entered her favorite spot a successful, blonde with undeniable caucasian heritage and in a matter of mintues she was fleeing an overcrowded, hostile mob as an overweight african american wearing clothes that no longer fit.
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Bright light and a cacophony of noise. Bedsheets, a coarse paper gown, feeling the weight and the itchiness on every inch of skin. Burning, sweating. Every part of me overheating. I tried to push the blanket away.
A sharp pain in the back of my hand as the plastic tube of a saline drip almost pulled free.
Eyes struggling to focus.
A nurse in white, the sound of her shoes slapping across the vinyl floor, each step explosive like a gunshot.
I heard her breathing and scented the smell of her shampoo beneath the anti-bacterial gel on her hands; beneath that, the smell of her skin; beneath that, the telltale scent of blood that told of her cycle reaching it’s peak.
And her heartbeat.
Impossible.
The clinical pale blue of the room was far from soothing. The insistent beep of a machine beside the bed pierced through me.
“The patient’s awake, Doctor.”
Her voice, so loud in the small room.
Another face replaced that of the nurse. I saw every follicle of his neatly trimmed beard, a tiny scratch on the frame of his glasses, overpowered by the smell of the product in his hair, his deodorant, the traces of laundry liquid on his fresh white coat. His heartbeat, regular and strong.
Ignoring his reassuring smile, I traced the pulse in his neck, the rushing of blood through his veins like a fast flowing river.
“You’re back with us. How do you feel?”
So loud, his words assailed me.
“Burning up. Hungry.”
Another voice. My voice; low, dry, almost a growl. Not mine at all, more like some kind of animal.
“How’s the arm?”
My other arm was heavily bandaged, itching madly, the center of the burning.
I flexed my fingers, wanting to reach out, grab a hold of him, not let go.
He extended his phone in front of my face.
The picture on the screen showed a forearm - my forearm - stained yellow with medical antiseptic, three long tears in the flesh, neatly stitched.
“You had quite a nasty injury. Thirty-seven stitches. There’s more we can do, but it will leave scars. How much do you remember?”
The burning fever and a new hunger fogged my memory, offering only glimpses.
Hiking on the moor, staying out past the sunset, determined to make it to the highest of the tors when everyone else had turned back.
Only a need remained.
Needing to be out there now. Free. Away from the noise and the overpowering smells. Needing to run.
Not strong enough. Not yet.
“It looks like a dog attack. The police went up with marksmen. They didn’t find anything.”
My eyes were drawn back to him every time he breathed, twitched and fidgeted. How human, unable to keep still.
“A farmer on a quad bike scared it off. He found you way off the path. If it hadn’t been for the moonlight reflecting off your hiking jacket, he wouldn’t have seen you.”
Through the blinds at the window, the daylight faded.
One more night of the moon.
I see the glow of his body heat against the cool of the room and the equipment, the rush of his blood around his body, the double thump of his heart. And the rest of them, milling around the building, bleating like sheep. Soft. Fragile. Enticing.
I feel the burning heat in me, no longer a fever but an energy coarsing through me.
I need to run, to be free.
I need to feed.
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My super hero. She made her billions in weight loss programs but her products don’t help all ethnicities. In her research she discovers a key in certain lipids which unlock super powers, however when she becomes a superhero it totally changes her appearance. She has to face the reality of predjudice that she never actually believed was real, and it gets personal. What would you do with super powers to avenge that kind of wrong? And to become super-powered she has to have the extra pounds. It’s a catch-twenty two.
Sorry if the lack of backstory offended anyone.
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I am sorry to hear you too have felt this symptom. It is terrifying!
What I can tell you is this.
Definitely when one is in pain, allergic reaction, visible injury or anything is wrong in the human condition it is natural for somerone’s blood pressure to go up and down a bit.
However, it is against logic that it simply go up in large degrees with no potential cause, defying rhyme and reason. Also not exactly adhering to the science of blood pressure controls like medications to bring it down or keep in check. It is willy nilly like.
Pheo/Para is considered rare because of the number of living diagnoses, BUT apparently not so rare when one undergoes an autopsy.
I found much written about folks that were diagnosed with many typical issues of aging and when they passed (most often untimely) their autopsies revealed what is called “unsuspected” Pheo or Para growth in/on adrenal glands.
So cause of death may state, due to cardiac arrest, but will also state, aggravated by unsuspected Paraganglioma/Pheochromocytoma. Indicating that lead to cause of death, but simply was not known in their life time.
I did not like the numbers I saw there.
I also saw where Para/Pheo can cause some 100 different symptoms. Yes, 
!!! It is ripe for misdiagnosis, and so often is according to aforementioned numbers and medical opinions.
I encourage you, if for any reason you are experiencing the blood pressure symptoms (as they are the dead Give away to the problem) ask for those very specific blood and urine tests, plus imaging. It is such a small effort to get back information that you can work with, if not put that concern to rest. It is curable, but left untreated it is fatal. It’s just a question of where and when.
Be your own advocate, make you medical worries your doctors worries by haunting them until you get an answer. Go in with a request for exactly what you want from them. Most providers seem to like a simple referral for your request. Just knowing what to ask for is the biggest part of the puzzle.
My thoughts and best wishes are with you.
I love this!
This is classic! I love it! For anyone with back they know the struggle is real, buses, theaters, trains 
. You made this moment very real!
What great stuff! My mind is racing about all the directions this could go? Please keep writing, I can’t wait to see where you take this. Brillant concept.
ROBIN!!! DROP THE MIC!!! Now That’s what I’m talking about. You hit that prompt right out of the Park, to thunderous applause I might add.
Ok, I am gushing now, but I am a huge fan of what you have created here.
In the first bit, my nose was actually itching with the descriptions. (I realized when I was squishing at the tip of it to stop the tingling sensation.)
From the patients perspective, I was right there thinking, I recognize those details, those gowns suck and what is with those medical personnel shoes, annoying right!?!
Then all the hints to something more. Something different. Something so wrong, it has become right.
Absolutely delicious to read in anticipation of the reveal. The prestige even.
Brilliant! Bravo, BRAVO!
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Too kind. I don’t ‘do’ medical and I don’t do horror. I mostly don’t do description, either. So the prompt came as a throwaway challenge, 1 draft, 1 edit, posted it. Thank you.
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