What a day.
A friend sent me an email telling me today was a #pitmad day on Twitter. You know, one of those insane days in cyberspace where you condense the pitch for your story down to 140 characters (including the hashtag pitmad, spaces, and genre) in hopes of catching the eyes of a few participating agents. Truly, it’s insanity. Twitter pitching, I call it twitching. Did it once. No way no how was I doing it again. Especially not with Astonishing, a story that doesn’t lend itself to a brief tag line. I admit it, it’s a weird book with an unreliable narrator. Enticing when distilled like that, right? Except here I am, doing it. Came up with a fantastically meh pitch. I’ve tweeted it a few times. Sort of.
I thought it was going to be good that I had the doctor’s appointment for my back this afternoon. Yanno, so I wouldn’t obsess over the Twitching. Went to the office, spoke with the doctor, she tapped, she pushed, she pricked, she looked at my MRIs, then she shot little electric currents and needles through my legs and lower spine. Oh, the many, many ways I can twitch.
“So it hurts on your right side normally, yes?”
“But it hurts on the right side now, too, yes?”
“But you have blahblahblahdiscspinebulgenarrowheelnerve right side.”
“Nope, just down the left side.”
“Hmmm.” More looking, more needles, more electric currents. “You do have mwamwahmwahmwhahpbbt in the blah blah vertebrae and somethingsomething discs, and more mwhahahahwma sciatic nerve.”
I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure what she said was, “your back is fuuuucked up. Both sides.”
I left there with more prescriptions than I’ve ever been given. It’s the trifecta of back fuckedupedness, nerve, muscle, and spine. Those scripts are probably a good thing, because by the time I left my back felt as broken as it did a week ago. “We can also give you a shot right now, into the site, to see if that helps.”
One of the prescriptions is not covered by my insurance and way over budget. I’m saying no thanks to that one, too. I asked about getting back to my yoga routine, in addition to the physical therapy scrip. Sure, except for every stretch and position that actually works to get me in shape.
Hmm, do I go with broken and twitching but a better head space, or out of shape and upright but miserable? A tough call. I’m beginning to see the allure of one piece bathing suits and floaty wraps. And plastic surgery.