Anastasia: The Daughter we Lost (4)

There are things I can’t remember off hand and I will need Anastasia’s medical records to find out dates and times for when things happened. I do recall my husband staying with me in a parent room for at least two nights in Wellington Neo Natal so we could support each other through our daughters surgery.
After catching up on sleep I’m not sure if I was in shock or stress, though I remember been cool, collected and blasé about her surgery. Maybe I had switched off my emotions. We saw the doctor or surgeon who said the surgery was about four hours and we might as well go out and have a look around Wellington rather than sitting in the waiting area. Strangely enough and it now sounds horrible… we did just that, with our cell phone on waiting for the call to say everything was fine which it was. I do recall her having jaundice, though not sure if that was before or after the surgery. I have a feeling it was after her surgery.
It was weird seeing her covered in wires which checked on her health and I think she had a respirator as well. Again I’ll have to look this up to double check.

This photo shows Anastasia on a Respirator after her surgery for Duo Denal Atresia. They mended a hole in her bowel so she could eat etc. The image has a blue colouring due to her having jaundice which took a few days to go away.

Anastasia, now breathing on her own showing her post-op surgery scar. She is still being tube fed with my milk which I was extracting daily. Not a nice sensation, though I’m glad she was able to have my milk. With her being my fourth child I used to get bad cramps from extracting my milk. Apparently this is a thing that gets worse (in general) the more babies you have.
I should also thank people from the local Heart Children Group who supported us by sending a few gifts, toiletries and a breast pump to express my milk. Walking back and forth between Ronald McDonald House and the hospital certainly gave me some good exercise.

I am sure you can imagine the amount of money needed to technically run two households. My husband and children lived over two hours away. He was a student so our income was low…to say the least. He had to use our income for all the normal stuff as well as for travelling down to Wellington. The hospital does provide funding for people who live more than 80kms from the hospital they are attending. Of course all this took time to get reimbursed and it’s a good job family and friends helped feed them. However, I never really knew what it was like at home. We were also able to request food money for me from the local Work and Income Branch, which luckily for me was just up the road from the hospital. Of course timing was importing to get there and be seen due to expressing milk and looking after my prem baby girl. This is where the racism comes in. Yes I am a shade of white. Though my parents and siblings are all darker than me. I am Welsh, Irish, a bit of English and Spanish. I am considered British. However I am not a New Zealand European and never will be. My husband’s heritage is Irish, English, Polish and he has Māori DNA.  He is a New Zealander. Our children are multi-cultural. We are still finding out about our past culture and heritage.

The hospital social worker let’s you know how the system works so there I was back in 2002 when I entered Work & Income Office lined up and put my name down to see someone. They had some free appointments each day for emergencies. Nearly everyone in there were of Māori or Island descent. I’m one of those people who see everyone as human first and foremost, not the colour of a person’s skin. Anyway, I sat down beside this Māori guy covered in tattoos. He was a nice guy. However the receptionist wasn’t. I noted some of the people who came in after me were being called through to be assessed. This meant they’d moved past my name in the list. I got up and spoke to the young male Māori/Islander receptionist who told me I had to wait. I looked at his list and said he’d already passed my name and asked what was going on. I had a sick baby in Neo Natal and to put it mildly my breasts were beginning to leak. He literally told me to “go feed your baby and come back again.” I told him his office would be closed by the time I came back. He told me to come back another day. I was a mess of tears. I’m sure you can imagine. I went back to my seat and the man beside me asked if I was all right. I burst into tears again and told him what had happened. He calmed me down and I’m sure he took me back to the reception to have words. I do remember eventually seeing a young woman and putting my head on her desk, crying. I was a total mess. She asked me if she should ring my husband. I told her no because he’d be furious. She apologised for the receptionist and I said. “I hope to God he doesn’t ever have a baby in Neo Natal.” I think her eyes widened and she processed my claim, having to change the voucher to a closer supermarket because I didn’t drive and had no idea how to get around Wellington. By the time I got back to the hospital, my top was soaked and I let the social worker know what had happened. She wasn’t pleased. I have a feeling parents from Neo Natal were meant to be seen and dealt with as an emergency. There were many away from home for long periods.

Our older three children came down with their father or grandparents. I can’t remember which, I’ll have to sort through my notes and medical files if I can get them. They had to wear masks due to coughs and I think we had also been moved to the main neo natal ward by this time. The ward where babies were more awake and healing, rather than the intensive care in the other area. They adored her on sight having cuddles and photos. My eldest was amazing with her and ended up sharing her bedroom with Anastasia and helping to look after her, which included feeding by tube.
I’ve been a bit stuck to what to say. We had a few visitors and I moved from the parent rooms over to Ronald McDonald House, which was across the road. I used to go early in the morning in my pjs to visit and care for her. I took her to appointments  including scans for her heart (AV Canal… hummm. They sort of got that wrong.) I remember them shooing me out of the ward, drawing a curtain around Anastasia’s bed to do blood tests. She wailed and screamed while I paced the hallway listening to her. It was bloody awful and I wish they would leave her alone.
Let me explain a bit about Down Syndrome. As most people know they have an extra chromosome, however they can also have other issues like the Duo Denal Atresia ending in Surgery. Deafness is another issue along with an extra long tongue. With Anastasia (like her older siblings) she had a Tongue Tie, which her paediatrician refused to cut due to her AV canal heart condition. (Down the track when back in our local hospital.) They also have narrower blood vessels. Getting blood from her foot was horrifying and painful for her. Not being with her was more stressful than being allowed to hold her and let them do their job. Apparently they think it is too stressful to be in the room. She had more than one blood test. All of them were horrible.
By this stage Anastasia was in the main Neo Natal Ward and I was expressing milk for her to drink via a feeding tube and so we got to know the other parents and babies. Quite a few parents stayed at Ronald McDonald House with me. It was a lovely modern place with lovely rooms and kitchens. I have heard since our time there the house was closed down due to earthquake safety and they had to build a new one. Not sure if it is in the same place or not. Something for me to research.

We were in wellington for about four weeks. They flew us back to Palmerston North via the child flight plane. It is a special plane set up to transfer children. It was noisy and I had to wear headphones, while my daughter was in an incubator with a nurse/doctor checking her. We arrived in Palmerston North Airport and an ambulance returned us to Neo Natal Ward in an Isolation room due to her coming in from another hospital. Or so we were told. I can’t say I’ve ever seen this before. We still have her Child Flight teddy bear.

Anastasia: The Daughter we Lost (her birth)

It is amazing to me how the medical services don’t communicate with each other correctly. The birth of Anastasia was a complex mess of at least four doctors who apparently didn’t know what was going on or who was supposed to be in charge. We had reports going to the wrong specialist, a midwife who didn’t have all the facts, though was wonderful, along with others who were assuming things, not asking permission while I was lying there having contractions. Even my husband didn’t know what was going on.

It started on a barmy warm day of me continually ringing my husband who was at college, until he decided to turn his phone off. I was having what I thought were Braxton Hicks contractions. I was thirty-five weeks pregnant and my stomach measured forty-two weeks. I was huge. They girls were at school and it was time to get them. I already had my son with me. We walked our usual way to school, meeting another pregnant mother along the way who was due at the same time. We chatted about birth and contractions since my back was twinging. Arrived at school and collected our children. I don’t think anyone saw me for about six weeks at the school after this.  Anyway, I took the girls home along with my after school siblings and had afternoon tea. My stomach was still contracting. My eldest wanted to touch and feel one. The look on her face was cute. She was eight years old.
I finally realised I have having real contractions, though couldn’t get hold of my husband so rang my midwife. I can’t remember who looked after the children, however we were about to leave when my husband arrived home. Slight chaos. Mind we got to the hospital maternity ward, signed in and into a delivery room where my midwife checked me out, attaching the monitors for heartbeat etc.
The specialist who had dealt with my kidney stones appeared and I have no clue as to why. I have a feeling the results from Wellington Specialist went to him by mistake. Our family doctor appeared and also a Paediatrician. My midwife was at my side along with my husband. They were suddenly alerted that my baby was Down Syndrome, apparently nobody knew. Then they found out she would need surgery and all hell broke loose.
I man arrived at my left side and swabbed my arm and proceeded to put in a needle and I was like… WHAT THE HELL! What is going on? The reply stunned me. “This is to slow and stop your contractions so we can fly you down to Wellington!”
“Pardon. I’m not going to Wellington. I’m having my baby here.” He stopped what he was doing as various people came to talk to me.
“You need to be in Wellington to have your baby. She will need surgery.”
“I’ll have here here and then take her down. I was told it was fine as long as we were there within twenty-four hours.”
“It’s safer… You’ll have a nurse…”  and I’m not sure who with me.
“I want my husband and my midwife with me or I’m not going anywhere!”
“There isn’t room for anyone else.”
“My midwife can hold the files…”
I refused to be moved. No way was I having my baby in a strange hospital without any family support. Though they left the needle in my arm, they all left and my midwife looked at me.
“I want you to be paid for being my midwife and I want people I know with me.”
I can’t remember what she said. What I do remember is my darling daughter was getting tired of trying to get out. The contractions stopped and we assume she fell asleep.
“You could’ve gone. If they find out you’re contractions have stopped…”
“Still not going.”
Baby girl slept for about three hours. She was born at three in the morning. A tiny baby of 4lbs 14oz. I had her on my stomach and chest for a few moments after which the sods took her away to be checks and didn’t bring her back. My husband went with them. It must have been an hour later when he returned with a photo of our girl.
“Where is she?”
“Neonatal.”
Shortly after they came in and told us they were flying her to Wellington for her surgery. They couldn’t fit me in the helicopter (I feel like it was punishment for not going while I still carried her) and I’d have to drive down with my husband. I have no idea if she signed permission for this or not. My husband can’t remember either. I was pissed off and angry. I felt like they stole my baby. (Probably not).
There was no way I was staying in hospital without her. I got signed out and while my husband collected a few things from home, checking on our other kids. He picked me up at the hospital and drove down in our VAN… with little suspension. So here I was newly delivered, sore and hurting in a van which caused more pain. It was a two and a half hour drive to Wellington Hospital. I was knackered. I assume my husband was as well. We entered the neonatal unit, sore, tired and angry from lack of sleep. The first thing out of the male Charge Nurses mouth!
“You were meant to have your baby here.”
Me livid… Me a Leo and protector let rip at the stupid sod. “I was told I could have my baby in Palmerston North as long as I got her to Wellington within a time limit. Don’t even,” I glared. Another nurse showed us to our daughter. She was under a blue light due to Jaundice.
No arrangements had been made by me or to me by any specialist, paediatrician or doctor about having my daughter in Wellington. If this had been the case, we would have gone straight there from home. Lack of communication was rife. We were lucky to get a parent room, though eventually I went to stay at Ronald McDonald House across from the hospital while my husband returned home to look after our other children.
I spent most of my time with our daughter in Neo Natal. The photo below shows me holding her for the very first time. I was ecstatic, though she was tiny. One thing I remember was being told not to look at the other babies, which was extremely hard to do. I made at least one friend here who’s baby was really tiny and had kangaroo cuddles. That particular young man is now over six feet and makes his mother proud.

I has a few more upsets though the one with h Work and Income Department was by far the worst. Government Agency Receptionist who to put it bluntly was a racist moron. Though that is another story.

Anastasia, The Daughter we Lost (2)

The last post ended with the test to see if our foetus had Down Syndrome as suspected by the specialist. It would take ten days to get results and those ten days were the slowest of my life. I hated every moment of it. I read books, looked after the children and couldn’t stop thinking about the pending results, counting the days. I don’t recall having any support from friends or family at that time, except for my husband, though it is possible. I was down, unhappy, teary. I’m not sure how my husband coped or our children, for that matter.
Day ten. The results were supposed to be in and we heard nothing. Day eleven… nothing. I was now close to losing the plot. Why hadn’t our doctor called us? My husband called him in the end asking about the results. Apparently they had arrived on time and he was going to give them to us at my next appointment. WHO THE HELL DOES THAT TO PARENTS…ARGH. My husband had to calm me down and the doctor gave us an immediate appointment to share the results. He’d not realised we were or I was anxious for the results.
We arrived at the doctors fifteen minutes later, sitting in the waiting room until we were called in by the doctor. We sat down in front of his desk holding hands. I don’t recall much of the appointment. He held a green form in his hands and told us our foetus was Down Syndrome and I remember him asking if we wanted to know the sex of the child. This is when our baby became our baby. Female! I’m sure he asked us what we wished to do. I don’t believe in abortion for disabilities that are survivable. I knew a few Down Syndrome people where I grew up in England. If our daughter was going to survive her growth and pregnancy then it was fine with us. We would adore her as much as we adored our other children. She’d be an amazing addition. With saying this, my pregnancy continued. Surely nothing else could go wrong. I do recall the doctor saying that Down Syndrome children sometimes arrived early due to the extra amniotic fluid a mother carried.
We joined the local Down Syndrome group. I can’t remember how we found them, though they were welcoming and we made some good friends. It was at this group I would learn a little bit of sign language which is one of our national languages in New Zealand. Sadly I lost most of what I learn over the years due to not using it and having nobody to use it with. Sign Language is the first language a child with Down Syndrome learns and by their first birthday they may know at least ten signs. I always loved seeing their big smiles.

The pregnancy progressed. I got bigger and my two daughters loved to feel the baby kick, making them giggle, meanwhile the twin babies I was looking after once a week were crawling and trying to get into the cat litter… Has to shut the doors tight so the little girl who had amazing hand and eye co-ordination couldn’t get to the litter. Instead she picked up pieces of fluff out of the carpet. Chasing after her so she couldn’t eat the fluff was fun, especially when she’d grin and crawl off fast. My son thought it was hilarious, though tended to play with the other twin who was a boy. It was a great atmosphere and helped me through my down times. Meanwhile my husband was studying business at UCOL to further his career.

Next time: Braxton Hicks… or were they?

Anastasia – The Daughter we Lost (1)

I mention a little bit about our youngest daughter in my last post. I’ve always wanted to write her memoirs. Our time with her was short and full from the day I discovered I was pregnant to the day she passed away in her father’s arms at Greenlane Hospital, Auckland.

This is my first post about what happened, maybe this is how I will write my memoirs of her life. She had an incredible life and my pregnancy was pretty good other than getting kidney stones at about 19 weeks pregnant. Nobody needs them… shudder, especially when they’re pregnant.
I knew I was pregnant within minutes of conception, or I was likely to be. You see we used natural contraception, which means counting your days and don’t stuff up… we stuffed up, mind it also got rid of my kidney stone. I quietly freaked out. We already had three children and helped friends with childcare. I didn’t want another child. It took we a few days and a few words with Maggie (a friend and nurse) to get up the courage to take a test. Yep I was pregnant and I’m sure I burst into tears and Maggie hugged me. I had no idea what to say to my husband who at that time was a student at UCOL, studying business.
Obviously I told my husband, I can’t remember when, where or anything, though I do remember discussing  with him about having a vasectomy and going ahead with it… stupid… if only we’d known, though that is life. The surgery wasn’t overly nice either, though easier for him than me and less recovery time.
I was sitting in a chair at my mother in laws house when the pain struck. It was intense and just as bad as contractions maybe worse. I remember going to the doctors and my husband took me to the emergency department at the local hospital where I finally got pain relief and put on a ward. Not the right one or the right specialist, apparently. They wouldn’t do any surgery due to me being pregnant. I do remember ending up in maternity and my midwife eventually found me (days later after bring admitted) Nobody had told her, she literally found my name on the intake board and came to see me. She wasn’t happy about the lack of communication from our family doctor and nor was I. When I got kidney stones, I also had scans to find out how big they were, while they were at it, they scanned the foetus as well. The lady has issues looking and went to get someone else to look. I wasn’t overly worried, after all I’d had three children already. Then BOOM.
“We can’t find the four quarters of the heart. You need to get a foetal scan. That took several days to organise. Due to my husband being busy, my mother in law came with me. She’d never seen a scan before. The same thing happened again. They told us there were issues and we needed to see a specialist in Wellington to find out what was going on. Wiping the gunk off my stomach I dressed and walked into the hall way with mum who promptly burst into tears. I had to hug her and rub her back for a while. She couldn’t understand how I was so calm. I suppose it was the shock and the reality sorting itself out in my mind. I probably was upset, though there was nothing we could do. I don’t remember the rest of the day. I don’t remember telling my husband. It’s weird how memories work. I do recall mentioned it to one of the school mums at the primary school my girls attended because I knew her son had a heart condition. She was amazing and helped me process things better and gave us a book about heart conditions as well as inviting my husband and I to the local group of Heart Children. Best thing we ever did.
By the time we got to our specialist appointment we were prepared with the book and could muddle through what the specialist was talking to us about. He said we were one of the calmest set of parents he’d ever had. While there I think I may of had another scan, or he used the last ones and showed up what was going on. He told us our baby has AV Canal heart defect and Duo Denel Atresia. This second condition would need surgery within 48 hours of the baby’s birth. I was to do with her stomach and either a hole or a blockage. He also told us your baby maybe Down Syndrome. Apparently Duo Denel Atresia is something common in Down Syndrome children. He asked if I would take an Amniocentesis test. I didn’t like the sound of it, though my husband convinced me. What they do is scan your abdomen where the foetus is and insert a long needle into the fluid in the sac and remove some for testing. It was bloody horrible, hurt like heck. We left shortly after, and found a café to have lunch. I had cottage pie… What the medical people forgot to tell us, is I should have been resting for a couple of hours after the test. Things went down hill from here on out with medical personnel.

                       Meet Oxford Bear. Nothing to do with my blog post. Just a cute picture to share.

There were some good times too. Like my daughters touching my stomach to feel the baby kick and move. My eldest was eight by this stage and found things like this more interesting. This little story wasn’t funny at the time and I went into shock at the school after dropping off all the children. I only has my son with me when a couple of teachers sat me down and gave me tea. Apparently the school didn’t know I was pregnant and it shocked them to see my gorgeous round tummy. The thing which caused the shock… as I said not so funny at the time though it amuses me when I retell.
Where we lived it was a street of double story housing with a small back yard and carport. We had a back alley so cars could drive out. I always used this way when taking the children to school. Nodding to my neighbour who was getting in her car. By the time I was approaching the mouth of the road to the main one, she was half way down the alley road. Another car turned the corner at speed onto the alleyway road. I’m still shocked he didn’t crash into my neighbour who sat there with her hands gripped to the steering wheel. Being me I yelled at the idiotic driver who slammed his brakes on and got out of the car to verbally abuse me. Ha… don’t do that to a British Chick… bad move on his part. I pulled the children to the side, told them to stay put and please excuse my foul language and please don’t tell your parents.  I stepped away from them and gave him a mouthful. The poor neighbour’s fists went white and the idiot spouted more abuse. Lasted about five minutes until he gave up getting in his car and drove off to his home. I waved to the neighbour, turned back to the children, apologising and took them to school where the shock hit with me shaking like a leaf.
It turns out that the guy is an abuser and generally abuses his partner and neighbours. It also sounds like I was the first woman to stand up to him and give him the same verbal abuse back. I remember seeing him about a couple of weeks later. I waved and smiled and he couldn’t look me in the eye. It may have been dangerous at the time, though I still found it funny to a degree, especially since he couldn’t look at me. I think they moved in the end.
That’s enough for this  post. Next time I’ll talk about getting the results back from the Amniocentesis test.

Life with a Hearing Impairment

I’m not sure I’ve ever told you about my hearing impairment. Technically I’m deaf without hearing aids, even though I can still hear sounds to a certain extent. Most of it will be lost in translation.

Going back over my life it was noted by my mother I had hearing issues as a child. I was tested and always came back clear. I was nine years old when they decided there was nothing wrong. These days I wonder if my hearing is an auditory problem. I can’t handle loud noises, meaning at a party or night out in a pub or club. I get lost with background noise and if someone spoke to me I may not hear them or respond. I’m sure this happened frequently and those that don’t know tended to get annoyed. Meanwhile, those who did know and I replied to… may have gotten a different reply because my brain translated what it thought it heard rather than what was said. This could cause some hilarity though even that hurt at times.

I came to live in New Zealand to marry my fiancé (still married) and life continued on as normal. By 2001 we had three children who would happily play together. One day my mother in law got fed up with repeating herself and watching me turn my head to the left to listen to her words. It wasn’t something I noticed I was doing. Mum said to me ‘Claire you need to get your hearing checked.’ and so the process started again with some laughter (yellow moulding clay in the ears to make the ear accessory so I could hear. There was also a lot of frustration in the process due to an audiologist who didn’t understand various things. I had my hearing test and then things went sideways when I got pregnant with our fourth child. Hearing were the least of my worries. It seemed there were issues with our new baby. We found out she was Down Syndrome, had Duodenal Atresia and at least one Heart condition. She was born at 35 weeks (I measured 42 weeks) and had surgery at 48 hrs old. Anastasia lived for three and a half months, dying from genetic defect, one they only discovered hours before she passed. It was heart breaking and changed our family for good.
Hearing issues were forgotten for just over a year. It was only after the loss of our daughter that we remembered and requested to continue my journey for hearing aids. Apparently after my new test, it seemed my hearing was a lot worse. I can’t say I overly liked the audiologist at the time and in the long run it seems instinct was correct. We applied for funding and this is when the next lot of frustration began with the audiologist. It was horrible, however I did end up with funding and new hearing aids. The criteria for funding was terrible and still is. I know for a fact part of the criteria was changed due to my complaints and a new article a few years later.
Anyway because I don’t drive and my husband was at work, my mother in law took me to my fitting appointment. This was the first full out laughter we had. I had hearing aids that fit in your ear rather than over you ear with a mould. To get this mould of your inner ear they have to make an impression with this gunk. Here was I sitting in the audiologist office with mum watching on, giggling. I had to bite my lip and shush her. The gunk sticking out of my ears was bright yellow. I wish we’d had phone cameras which could take photos back then. By this stage is was late 2003 or early 2004. I do remember getting my aids and finding out what I was missing. I could hear the people outside the room talking and others walking. It was astounding. Needless to say we still laid a complaint about the attitude of the audiologist and his unhelpfulness with funding, not that it is easy to get anyway. We ended up with a meeting with the funding people on the 1st anniversary of our daughters death. Not a place we wanted to be at all.

Moving

In May 2004 we moved to Rotorua and the referral was sent to Rotorua Hospital. The case notes hadn’t been updated for some reason and the lovely audiologist there didn’t realise I already had my aids.
I still found it difficult to listen when there was a lot of noise or loud voices, your brain translate what it hears slower and differently causing much confusion. It is times like these I wish I’d learnt more sign language, however I had no one to use it with since the death of my daughter who was Down Syndrome. Sign language would’ve been Anastasia’s first language.

Anastasia in rompers at Greenlane Hospital 2 Feb 2003

Getting used to wearing them during the day was good, at night, I didn’t wear them. Even today it sometimes makes me feel like a bad mum due to not hearing when my kids were sick at night. My girls used to care for their brother. It was usually a light switching on which woke me, occasionally it was the mother instinct. I’m so proud of my children looking after each other and being so close.
We had a lot of fun with my hearing, though sometimes it isn’t funny at all. I suppose it depends on the mood I’m in at the time. Most hysterics happened during dinner time when I hadn’t heard correctly and started talking when they looked at me “What are you on about?” look. It could be even funnier if I wasn’t wearing my hearing aids. I must admit it is nice to have the sound of silence at times.
If I’m not wearing my hearing aids, people need to talk to me in my left ear, slowly and clearly, or all I hear is a murmur of words in my right. I remember my audiologist saying I have a genetic condition in my right ear where the film/skin over the drum goes hard, meaning sound can’t bounce off it. I consider myself deaf in my right ear now and don’t wear a hearing aid because it doesn’t pick up enough sound to make it worthwhile. Since this time, I’ve had new hearing aids again and I’m 90% deaf in my right ear and about 70% in my left. In general I can’t hear at all without my hearing aids.

One thing I dislike with hearing loss is continually explaining to others that I have a hearing impairment and they have to speak slow and clearly, only for them to reply. ‘Oh I have a hearing loss too.’ Maybe they have, maybe they haven’t, however none of them wear hearing aids and listened to me clearly and consistently. If you have a hearing loss, get a test.
My second daughter has hearing issues as well, we still don’t know if she has the same genetic condition I have. She hates loud piercing noises, especially fireworks, she had constant ear infections and several surgeries for grommets and always sat at the front of the class. If I recall my own childhood, I also tended to sit at the front of the class. Now I know why… We think it was her auditory issues which affected her schooling, however her learning was more complex than this, though nobody would work out what was wrong.

As of last November, I have new hearing aids. They are digital, have blue-tooth etc and there is a lot more care needed than before. This also means it’s a lot more cost involved and not only batteries to buy. Due to not being able to use the hospital audiology (old doctors fault with referral…ugh) I had to go private though the aids were funded which was a good job since it was over $7k. The only thing I had to pay for was the fitting fee which was $1,340. OUCH. Via the hospital you don’t pay which is why I usually went that route. These aids are great, though I feel like most of my hearing has now gone. I hear even less in my left ear than I used to when I’m not wearing them. I still struggle with background noise, though if I sit in the right place it is a bit easier.
I still have problems with some accents and how fast some people speak. My brain translates the worse slower therefore missing parts. I no longer find it funny when teased if I get something wrong. I’m also quieter than normal and when in a group I don’t join in so much. It’s just not worth it any longer.
There we have me… the deaf writer, though I’m sure there are many of us out there in the world. We all do things differently and we are part of the writing community. I still prefer to message or email people instead of talking. I’ve written over fort books and you can find them on the link below.

Author Central – Claire Plaisted

New Identity by Claire Plaisted

A New Story by Claire Plaisted – New Identity

Would You Like to Fly?

Electric Eclectic's Blog

Ka, half raptor and half man, must undertake three tests to become a member of the elite Icarian Squadron, flyers who dedicate themselves to the destruction of Summia and to an alliance with Imperiana. In order for him to succeed, he must first overcome his own fears, but in the process he discovers how Imperiana has manipulated the trials and Ka’s own emotional needs. Captain Harriman, under Imperial command, is ordered to make sure the fledgling flyers bow to Imperiana’s control. Will Ka be able to survive the trials and become an Icarian as his father was in the first war between Imperiana and Summia, or will his failure lead to disgrace and exile from the Rookery?

At 113 pages, this is a great book to kick back and relax with.

I loved it. Very imaginative. Who among us wouldn’t love to be able to fly in more than our…

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Don’t Drive By Without Stopping

Electric Eclectic's Blog

A Short Hot Romantic Read

Description

Cara had been writing romance since before the break-up of her relationship at college. Although only fairly successful, a chance encounter on her way home from a Book Signing was just what she needed.

Ewan had seen the blond beauty in her red Jaguar F-Type as he drove home from what had turned out to be a career changing day. He could still scarcely believe that he was the Super Bike World Champion but all that fled from his mind when he spotted her. He tried to forget her as they parted ways on the road, but it didn’t work and he had turned around hoping to chase her down. Seeing her parked in a lay-by was just the opportunity he needed to take the plunge.

However, both Cara and Ewan left their lay-by liaison only knowing each other’s first name. The next morning…

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How to Structure Stories With Multiple Main Characters? – by K.M. Weiland…

I use multi characters to get an end result in a story… Thought I’d share this so readers can understand how it works. Enjoy the read from K M Weiland.

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

on Helping Writers become Authors:

One of the most common questions I’m asked is how to structure stories with multiple main characters.

If you have two (or more) characters who are equally important to the story and receive equal POV time, how should you balance them when structuring your novel?

Continue reading HERE

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How Bad Marketing Can Destroy Your Author Brand, Lose Friends, and Influence Nobody – by Anne R Allen…

Always wise to research what you are looking for, before you take the plunge…

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

Bad marketing is worse than none. And I’ve seen some breathtakingly bad marketing strategies recently. I assume authors are hiring cut-rate online marketers who have more experience selling real estate in Mumbai and knock-off designer sunglasses than books.

Do I need to say this is a bad idea? Being annoying may sell faux Viagra and Bitcoin scams, but it will not make people think an author has anything entertaining or wise to say. In fact, it may drive away your existing readers.

In publishing, your name is your brand. Once you’ve hired somebody who behaves badly in your name, it will be difficult to rebuild that brand.

Just an aside here, but speaking of bad marketing — American political marketers have quite a hustle going. Every day, they send us annoying placemat-sized “Postcards” that go straight into recycling, and hire robocallers to harass us in their candidate’s name. Then they…

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