Some readers might have noticed the absence of a new installment for my NaNoWriMo novel.
As it often does, life threw me an unpleasant curve.
“What the . . . that’s GROSS! What is that!?” you might ask.
Well, Bob, yesterday morning, when I lifted my legs to get out of bed, the movement triggered a series of cramps up and down both legs. One cramp in particular, on my left thigh, lasted a (according to Melisa) two or three minutes. I don’t remember exactly because I nearly passed out. I have never in my life felt any pain equivalent to it. It felt as if my whole thigh was being pulled apart, and it just kept going.
The leg remained ‘tight’ all morning; I could not sit, lay down, or walk for more than a few minutes before the sensation of cramping would come back. You might notice the swelling of the leg above the knee . . . that’s this morning, but at noon yesterday it was worse, and I worried about a blood clot; the whole thigh felt like an overinflated balloon.
We went to the Emergency Room, and had it checked out. The ultrasound showed blood was flowing normal, but it also showed severe lesions on the muscles, possibly tearing. “That” above is the bruising that was evident this morning. I was assured it would get worse as the blood both drifted down (damn you, gravity, you heartless bitch!), and more of the internal bleeding came to the surface.
For now, I can barely hobble around, and I am forced to RICE, which I am dutifully doing.
I am waiting for the orthopedic doctor to call me back for my appointment (the ER doctor strongly suggested it because he was concerned about possible damage to the knee joint and stuff).
So, it turns out that yesterday I did not do much writing.
“You did some,” you ask?
Well, yes, but it was written on the Sumsung Note II, very slowly, and with great annoyance.
I will include it with my next regular post, but for them who need a fix, here’s what I wrote yesterday. As I said, be aware that if you read it now, you’ll read it again with my regular update.
NaNoWriMo Second Year (NaNoWriMo2)
Copyright E. J. D’Alise – 2014
“That’s a longer conversion than we have time for. Let’s take care of this right now.”
The administrator and what I assumed was a Lawyer Mech were waiting for us in a small conference room. We were ushered in, offered some water, and then the receptionist left, closing the door behind her.
The lawyer spoke first.
“May I inquire as to your relationship with the deceased?”
“We are private investigators hired by the legal partner of the deceased.”
“Oh, I see. Well, Mr. Wolf, I’m afraid MechMed won’t be able to assist you with much. While the deceased had authorized her partner, he can’t in turn authorize someone else to discuss her affairs.”
“Well,” I looked at the business card he had given me, “Brian, I’m not speaking to MechMed; I’m speaking with this Records Office, which, coincidentally, is currently negotiating their contract with MechMed.” I put the card down, and stood, Raven standing at the same time.
“I was hoping I would not have to file a formal complaint and drag MechMed into this, but perhaps it’s best if we do follow the formal route. I mean, I think it’s in both MechMed’s and the public’s interest for this matter to be fully investigated and made public.”
We had not even finished turning from the table when the administrator spoke up.
“Wait! Perhaps we can be a little flexible, and certainly we would like to help the survivors get some closure in this matter.”
We sat back down.
I reached into my jacket and took out my little spiral notebook. I didn’t need it, of course, but it has a certain effect in people. Less so in Mechs, but you never know.
I opened the notebook, and looked up, pen poised over the paper.
We say there in silence for thirty seconds before the administrator spoke up. The lawyer was better trained, and showed his displeasure at the administrator breaking under what was very minor pressure.
“Anything in particular you want to know?” The man asked.
I looked down at the other business card.
“Larry, may I call you Larry? . . . Great. Larry, I already know the basics. Your company lost a Mech’s Backup. We’re here to find out the rest. You start talking, and either me or Ms. 7 will jump in with questions. And, Larry? Assume we want to know everything you know. If you come up short and I find out about it, I will not be pleased.”
“Is that a threat?” Brian interjected.
I made a deliberate show of turning my head toward him.
“Brian, did you hear a threat?”
“Your wording and tone of voice could be interpreted as such.”
“Let’s put it like this,” I replied, “if it turns out the records were lost through deliberate action, and if it is then connected to the murder of Mz. Winter5n0w, I can assure you I will not be pleased in the least, and authorities will have to be called in. From my past experience, they will go through this place brick by brick.”
I paused, put the pen and notebook down, folded my hands in front of me, and then stared directly into his eyes.
“That’s the legal ramification. I know you are recording this meeting, so I will make it clear in case you want to replay it at a later date. If it turns out you intentionally lied to me to cover up either your or someone else’s involvement in this matter, I shall deem it a personal affront, and it will then be my pleasure to review everything you have ever done,” I turned to Larry,”and you too, in both your personal and professional life to ensure there is no further evidence of dishonesty and illegality. This, by the way, can be considered a threat. It’s also within my legal right to do so; it is, in fact, what I do for a living.
“Are we clear?” I looked back at Brian.
Brian looked at me for a few seconds before speaking up.
“Mr. Wolf, would you please wait a moment so that I may confer with my client?”
I nodded, and he thanked me as he motioned for Larry to step outside the room. The door closed behind them, and I cranked up my hearing. They stopped some ten feet from the door, and spoke in hushed tones. Even with my augmented hearing, I only caught a few words.
To Be Continued
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. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.