There
is an hilarious and heartbreaking new e-book, written by a woman who
saved her husband after his stroke, when the for profit medical
community tried very hard to warehouse him and lock him away to
quietly die. I know this because, I was the husband she saved. Filled
with advice on how to speak out for yourself, receive your legal
rights, make the hospitals and nursing homes and rehab clinics live
up to their noble public statements, all the challenges and life and
death struggles, and the use of humor to survive and triumph. It is
worth far more than the $7.99 cover charge. Could be the funniest and
most heart warming book you ever read, on any subject - not just
strokes.
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/434385
“They
say that you never know what you're capable of until you're tested.
On April17, 2006, at 8:32 A.M., I was tested. And wow! I came this
close to an epic fail. On that date and time I was being useless on
the sofa...suddenly he was in the den with me; he threw a Kleenex box
at me, in fact, plopped down on his side of the sofa and said, "My
hands don't feel like mine." I was up and in his face
in a nanosecond. (Okay, first I threw the box of tissue back at him
because I was grouchy, but that lasted about, well, a nanosecond.)
His face was looking normal. It wasn't doing that droopy thing that
happened to Peter on "Family Guy" when that animated,
completely unreal character had his STROKE. I asked Kimit if he
wanted me to call 911.”
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/434385
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/434385
beth.queries@irenegoodman.com
beth.queries@irenegoodman.com
<beth.queries@irenegoodman.com>
Ms.
Beth Vesel
Irene
Goodman Literary Agency
27
West 24th Street
Suit
700B
N.Y.C.,
N.Y. 10010
Ms.
Vesel:
What
would you do if the most important person in your life were suddenly
near death? Would you panic? Would you become a catatonic zombie? I
tried both. Neither worked. In utter terror, I still needed to keep
my wits, but boy howdy that was difficult, because of “money
people” badgering and pestering me for funds I did not have, and my
in-law support group who proved to be obnoxious, annoying caricatures
of small town hypocrites, and my best friend of 25 years who decided
that my begging her to help me not lose my mind was “asking too
much.” But then our salvation arrived with lunch at a “rehab
facility” which we referred to as Hellcare, in the form of a
steaming, slimy dollop of canned bile on a plate.
*
“You
Picked Orange or How to Save Your Spouse From a Stroke and Not Have
One Of Your Own” is an episodic non-fiction, non-linear
humor/horror memoir of my 54-year-old husband's hemorrhagic stroke.
“They say that you never know what you're capable of until you're
tested. On April 17, 2006, at 8:32 A.M., I was tested”.
“Ninety-eight percent of this story is true. That last 2 percent
has been altered, to protect the idiotic, the ignorant, the moronic
and the liars with lawyers,” and those who run a medical system
that is too massive to be personal, thinks poor people are
disposable, and some how, incidentally, almost accidentally saved
his life.
*
The
System entered as savior, when I called 9-1-1. I clearly and calmly
said “My husband is having a STROKE and we need paramedics, this is
my address, and yes, I am sure it's a STROKE, I know the signs and
symptoms, and our address is this, and please send help Stat. Send
help, yes, send help Stat." I was SO delusional. What I really
did was shriek, “Husband, STROKE, now, help help help him, gonna
puke, Oh God Oh God, Oh GOD HELP HELP, terrified, hurry, HE'S HAVING
A STROKE, REALLY! HELP!!”. The 911 lady was very nice, saying she
was sending “EMTs Right FUCKING now.” Okay, there was one word in
there she didn't really say.
*
“The
police arrived first. One of them pelted inside. I screeched, “He's
downstairs, in the bathroom! (all 6'4”, 298 pounds of him)” and
the cop said to me, “I can't do anything. We gotta wait for the
EMTs.” I think he said that. What I heard him say was “I am
useless. Wanna play Yahtzee?” Alas, when they came in, those EMTs
from heaven, carrying their boxes of “Dr. Fix-It's Health Potions,”
the first of them said, “Whoa, narrow staircase. Man, I hope this
guy is small.” Shit.
*
Written
(in part) on the web site “Daily Kos”, “You Picked Orange”
earned unsolicited praise: “So terrifying and so hilarious...You
are a hellaciously good writer” - “Would like to award you the
"Best Thing Ever Said to a Doctor who had the Bedside Manner of
an Overripe Grapefruit” - “Would TOTALLY have helped you hide the
bodies AND given you an alibi” And, “Wow!”
*
In
this tale you will meet people like: Dorothy the Manicured Money Lady
(assigned by the hospital to pry ducats out of us) who was convinced
we had hidden insurance or veteran's benefits, or that we had
Krugerrands buried in our back yard or lost Rembrandt's in our attic;
*
The
Unit Director who was more offended by my barely conscious husband's
bellowing obscenities than the fact that he was literally roaring
with pain from an undiagnosed infection;
*
The
endless patient advocates who offered to help us with financial forms
and applications for assistance, and then disappeared from our lives
forever;
*
The
Family Services Lady who starved us for six months because she had
doubled our bank balance instead of dividing it by two people, so we
appeared far too rich to qualify for food stamps;
*
The
endless stream of doctors and therapists who said my husband would
never even sit up without assistance let alone walk again - BTW he
walked, helped by a cane, out of Hellcare;
*
The
political flunkies who could never resist telling us we were morally
deficient for needing assistance and suspecting us of stealing our
$125 a month in food stamps:
*
And
all those bilious souls who tried to harm us by withholding our right
to care and got in our way? I kicked their ass. No, really. Took
time, took energy, made me depressed and angry, but I was determined
they would be sufficiently worried I might really become homicidal,
they stayed away from us. And, with their help and in spite of their
bureaucracy, I got my husband back.
*
Bio:
Samantha “Sam” Kimmel studied comedy under Danny Simon when she
was 20, until his brother Neil (Doc) Simon told her she was already
funny and to “Go. Write. Be funny.” She worked for Filmation
Associates Animation Studio (until it was purchased by a large
pharmaceutical company and then razed to the ground. No one knows
why.) under “Clambake” director and infamously dirty old man,
Arthur Nadel. While there she developed “The Brooke Shields Cartoon
Show”. You've never heard of it because it was killed by Terri
Shields who complained the series had no superhero mother character.
Samantha was also a regular contributor to the Los Angeles Herald
Examiner (just before it closed), the L.A. Times and the L.A. Daily
News (both of which survive, so far), and occasionally the Lafayette
Journal and Courier. Her columns were always humorous and timely,
often well received by the public, sometimes vilified by others in
that public. She does not dwell on them
*
And,
of course, the explanation of “You Picked Orange”. .
*
Email
a query letter and the first ten pages, along with a synopsis (3-5
paragraphs) and bio, in the body of an email to the agent of your
choice. The email addresses for this purpose are listed below. WE DO
NOT ACCEPT SNAIL MAIL QUERIES.
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